Partypants as Lady Liberty
by MGD
Summary: Cuddy's panties, it is a coveted prize. Learn how the obsession was born at Michigan and how it continues on today. The final showdown between Cuddy and House. Find out where they leave it. R&R please.
1. When Panties Come to Haunt You

Hello, readers. I know quite a few people have been following this story, so this may confuse a few people. This story was originally meant to be a one-shot that stopped after the first night Cuddy and House had at Michigan, but I couldn't stop after I got the creepy crawly idea. Evil, I know, but also hopefully funny. Since then it just seems to go on and on. I decided to change the format to make it easier to follow the vignettes that make up connected storylines. If you have already read the short chapters, the newest storylines will start in chapter 6. I just hope it is easier to follow the short story plots. Here are the basic warnings: (1) This is my own little sick head at work and has no association with the television series. If you're interested in profits, you're going to have seek out Mr. Shore. (2) This is rating M for a reason. There is adult content and language in this piece, but don't expect explicit description. I don't really write smut. (Trust me if I did it would sound like an instructional manual. There are somethings that certain girls do on instinct;) I love to know what people think so please leave a review whether you dislike or like. Thanks. -MGD

**PartyPants as Lady Liberty**

Chapter 1: When Panties Come back to Haunt You

_Present_

"Have you seen Cuddy?" Wilson stuck his head in House's office.

"No," he responded tilting his head in amazement at the sexual acrobatics unfolding on his computer.

"If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her. She was supposed to meet me in my office 20 minutes ago," Wilson moved behind House mirroring his action when he saw the double-jointed twin act, "Where do you find these sites?"

"Chase emails me the websites that people leave with Cameron whenever she pulls graveyard shift," House answered without an ounce of sarcasm in his tone, "If you need to find Cuddy, you could just break into her calendar."

"Unlike you, some of us were taught how to respect personal boundaries," he chided his friend while trying to memorize the current website.

"I can respect some boundaries like the impenetrable thornbush surrounding Cuddy's naughty place," he smirked, "You don't have to invade her office to get her appointments. Just log-in as LCuddy and put in her password Partypants92685. You can find out where or better yet on whom, she plans to use her administrative talents."

"Partypants? Interesting choice for a password," Wilson commented.

"College nickname," House replied.

"Wilson, I'm sorry that I'm late. I was finishing up a tour with a potential donor," Cuddy poked her head into the doorway. House knocked Wilson's arm with his elbow and smirked trying to convince him that Cuddy just proved him right about her 'daily activities'. Wilson smiled shaking his head and walked towards Cuddy. Halfway there, he turned looking back and forth between House and Cuddy.

"My god! Partypants is Lady Liberty!" Wilson shouted as he realized the connection. Cuddy opened her mouth in shock unable to confirm or deny.

House responded, "Great. You had to pick now to develop your detective skills, boy-wonder."

_Past_

The twilight of the dawn gently illuminated the edges of the buildings in the quad as House soaked in the silence of the early morning. He had spent the majority of the night tolling away in his personal version of hell. Being a medical intern resulted in a rotation for a few weeks in each area of the hospital. One night in the ER convinced the future doctor that brilliant minds went to the ER to die. He had diagnosed enough runny noses and itchy crotches to last him a lifetime. He made a silent promise to himself that his mind would never be wasted in such pathetic places.

At least, the night wasn't a complete loss. The blonde nurse in the ICU finally dropped her guard. She had proven a fruitful conquest. House smiled patting the pocket that held a stolen pair of pink panties. Of course, tomorrow would be awkward. Most women just can't walk away from the purely physical. The nurse had been a brief distraction, a minor challenge. Ever since word of Hopkins had hit Michigan, women had lost a bit of their appeal. College girls, in search of the rebel, were child's play. A few shots and well-timed insults guaranteed physical satisfaction.

The older women at the hospital hadn't caught wind of the issues at Hopkins. They didn't fawn over every word and story. Hell, there was a handful that could even qualify as mentally simulating in a few exchanges. A hiccup and giggle tore him from his thoughts as he turned his head in the direction of the noise. Sticking out from behind a tree was a perfectly round ass covered in red satin. _This is just too easy . . ._

_Present_

"What is he talking about House? Who is Lady Liberty?" Cuddy glared at him clearly fuming about her personal life being made public in the hospital. She could handle the obscene rumors about transgender operations and the impenetrable fortifications erected around her genitals, but he promised. He promised never to bring the personal details of their encounters from the past into the hospital. She knew that she should have made it a clause in his contract when she hired him.

"Technically, Wilson didn't know about the 'Partypants'. He figured it out all by himself, Mommy," House smirked at her glare, "Besides, Lady Liberty is the nickname I use for you when I tell people that story. I promised not to tell that story in the hospital. Poker games are free reign."

"Don't forget that medical conference in St. Louis, the blackjack tables in Atlantic City, and that bar by at the airport," Wilson added recalling the many times he had heard the infamous story from hallowed grounds of Michigan.

"House!" Cuddy yelled clearly not amused that the story had become one of his favorite tales to tell when he was drunk.

"I think I finally understand your relationship," Wilson started to smile when he thought of the thousand different versions that he heard House tell of that particular story, "He never does use your name when he tells the story." He crinkled his brow slightly re-examining the image he had of Lisa Cuddy.

"I swear if I hear my name or any implication of my involvement attached to that story, you will become world renowned for your expertise in sexually transmitted diseases. Plus you'll have the clinic hours to assert that expertise. Do I make myself clear?" Cuddy threatened placing her hands on the opposite side of his desk while drilling a death glare into his eyes.

House was silent for a moment before shaking his head. When he looked her in the eyes, he replied, "Sorry, I wasn't listening. I got lost in the valley, again." He smirked and resumed his gaze on her chest.

Cuddy gritted her teeth adjusting her posture, "I'll take that as a yes. Same goes for you, Wilson." She turned to the door and stormed down the hall to the march of stiletto heels.

Wilson turned his head back to House after Cuddy had vanished from sight. House was leaning back in his chair with his head still tilted to the side trying to grasp one last glance at Cuddy's backside. Wilson began to smile that evil genius grin, "So, that's the girl from Michigan."

_Past_

The sight of red lace panties immediately halted House in his tracks. His head automatically tilted to the left as he assessed the derrière in front of him. It was pleasantly rounded and had that look like it would be soft in a man's caress. There were faint tan lines a couple of centimeters from the edge of the panties. Her natural coloring was pale, but browned nicely in the summer. The ass looked soft to the touch, but her legs were toned perfection.

Those legs probably carried this girl five miles every morning. The calf muscles were enhanced by the death heels she was wearing. Heels had to be three or four inches high. She must be pursuing a male dominated procession. The heels must give her some much needed height and confidence to face the boys. The color of the shoes made his grin grow wider. The shoes matched her panties. He wondered if the bra completed the set.

Bringing himself out of the fantasy unfolding in front of his eyes, he finally noticed that the girl was mumbling to herself trying to pull her pants off over her red devil heels. House, for a brief instance, worried if the devil had finally come to bargain for his soul. He smirked thankful that Lucifer had sent an agent that encompassed all his fantasies. Again, for an instance, he wondered if there really was something to the higher being and afterlife BS before dismissing it just as quickly. He remained silent walking closer to the girl taking in her blue knit top that was bunching around her waist. Her dark curls hung around her face.

He couldn't contain a bark of laughter as she fell on her behind when she could not get her jeans over her heels. He kneeled behind her and whispered into her ear, "It might help if you took the heels off first."

He expected a gasp or shout, but his look was meant with a vicious glare from steel gray eyes. "If you're so clever, why don't you do it?" she fired back with slightly slurred words.

"My pleasure," he smirked.

_Present_

"Come on. It's time you bought me lunch," he rose from his desk limping over to his grinning friend, "Stop that. You look like an idiot."

"All these years, I thought that you were just unleashing all the pent-up, off-handed sexual comments that your twisted, convoluted mind comes up with about women, in general. I figured you went to town on Cuddy, so in your own sick perverse mind, you would be sticking it to the man. Plus she was the only woman that can put up with all your crap. Unless, of course, you just enjoy being put in your place," Wilson was still smiling like a kid reaching in the cookie jar for seconds without being caught.

House hit the button for the elevator turning to glare at Wilson after his last comment, "It's not like that. I wear the pants in that relationship. You were there last year when that patient mirrored me over her."

"Are you sure? You always attest to the 'power of her funbags'. Maybe he snapped back to himself when faced by that low-cut top," Wilson attempted to argue logically.

Both men walked into the elevator, and Wilson hit the button for the lobby level. House prepared to prove the idiocy behind his logic but stopped. Instead, he remained quiet lost in thought. "House?" Wilson questioned wondering why his response was so slow.

"Damn things are still distracting after 20 years," he murmured under his breathe.

"What?" Wilson gave him the you-are-talking-to-yourself-nutso expression.

"If they're that powerful now, imagine what they were like minus twenty years of gravity and tight shirt suffocation," he replied as they exited the elevator.

_Past_

When he reached out to touch her calf, the girl retracted from his reach and glared with fire in her eyes. She growled, "What the hell are do you think you're doing?"

"I took the 'if you're so smart' comment as an invitation," he reasoned waiting for her to give him back her leg.

"That's not my heel," she crossed her arms over her chest. The reaction caused her over-sized sweater to slip down her shoulder. Watching the motion, House couldn't help the wide grin that lit up his face. She wasn't wearing a bra, so she wore matching shoes instead.

His gaze returned to her face that had softened into a sublime smile that warmed her cool eyes. For a second, he allowed himself to drown in those icy depths. Later on, he would use the same tactic on countless women in future. "I like it when you smile," she slurred leaning into his body. His grin grew wider when her cleavage came into view.

"Promise you'll do that every time I smile," he leered.

"Okay, but only if you help get these pants off," she smiled.

"I really like you," he responded to her answer.

"No, you like certain parts of me," she replied watching him gaze over her body but always returning to her breasts, "Especially the twins."

"Seriously?" his voice cracked, "You have a twin?"

"No," she answered frustrated cupping her breasts, "I meant the girls, pom-poms, melons, cantaloupes, funbags, yabows, or also affectionately known as the twins."

"Do you always talk this much when you're drunk?" House deadpanned.

"Are you always this charming when you undress a woman?" she fired back sarcastically.

"Usually, I save the charm for when they're naked," he wagged his eyebrows.

She laughed, "Take off my pants already." A red heel was thrust into his hand on her command. For once, he found no problem in following orders.

_Present_

House motioned to the cashier that his tray was to be included with Wilson's purchases. Wilson sighed as he watched his friend limp away wondering if he ever would get to eat his chips. Who knew buying House lunch as a thank you for bail money would result in years of lost money? He followed the thunk of a cane remembering how they met. Suddenly, he wondered, "What exactly is this thing between the two of you? You pull her pigtails, and she kicks your shin until you let go. Instead, you just pull harder."

"I always thought it was more like two feral dogs in heat," House described his perspective.

"Sometimes," Wilson confessed frowning at the mental image, "Is your relationship the fall out from something that happened at Michigan, or is it your twisted version of a twenty year mating ritual?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that woman is all up in my jock? She just gets all fired up when I won't hit that on her command. It makes her uninhibited later on," House answered in a flippant tone.

Wilson responded in a calm tone, "Yeah. She really does get wild when she pulls out those leather straps and ties you down to the bed."

House looked up at him in shock choking on Wilson's chips. He replied in a high pitch tone, "Seriously?"

_Past_

Involuntarily, House raised his right hand to his forehead in salute as the girl in devil heels finished fastening the ropes on the flagpole in the center of the quad. Watching his actions, the girl fell into line next to him and mimicked his salute with a wide grin. She inquired, "Why are we saluting my pants?"

"Jeans that tight deserve proper respect," House mumbled lowering his arm quickly. He didn't even realize that he assumed the proper position for honoring the flag. Some things from his childhood were drilled in so deep that he still reacted like a mindless soldier.

"In that case, here's to my party pants," she giggled raising her hand in the direction of her pants before lowering it to her side. Both stood quietly watching her pants wave proudly in the breeze just below the red, white, and blue.

"Why exactly did you have me tie your pants on a flagpole, Partypants?" he wondered slipping off his leather jacket. He placed his hand on her left shoulder and motioned for her to face him. He smirked when she batted his hands away when he tried to lift her arms. Before she could respond, he commanded, "Put your damn arms up. If we don't cover that sweet behind of yours up, we are going to be picked up for doing naughty things that shamefully still haven't happened yet."

"It's an ass, you idiot," she stumbled backwards on wobbly legs, "Where did you learn to tie things onto a flagpole anyway? It looked like you actually knew something there for a second."

"Put your arms up, woman," he moved closer to her retreating form.

"Not until you tell me where you learned to do that," she kept backing up.

"I was a military brat. My dad is a corporal in the marine core," he hissed growing frustrated that a complete stranger, _amend that a complete drunken stranger_, could pry personal information from him by acting playful. She finally stopped when he captured her against a tree. Obediently, she raised her arms up and allowed him to wrap his jacket around her hips. Her arms went around his neck as he tied the sleeves of the coat. He leaned into her body and breathed in her ear, "For your information, I know a lot of things."

_Present_

"Yeah, House. Cuddy and I get together every Thursday night for bondage night. Poker just grew too mundane after awhile," Wilson answered in disdain. When he noticed that House was examining him for the sign of a tell, he added, "It was a joke. The only person that Cuddy wants to tie down and reprimand is you."

"Seriously?" he choked on another handful of chips.

"Sometimes it sure looks that way," he shook his head. House was examining him again. "Why don't you go ask her?" Wilson replied hopefully.

"Not until I figure out what she plans on doing with Little Little Greg," he answered looking down at his pager as an annoying beep filled the air.

"I figured that you already knew that part," Wilson smiled trying to get him to reveal more details about their past relationship.

"Not him, you idiot. I meant the cane," House rose leaving Wilson with another unwelcome mental image.

_Past_

As he whispered into her ear, he enjoyed the mixed scents of scotch and lavender scenting her body and breath. He could feel her body tense and squirm in his arms when his unshaven jaw tickled her neck. His instincts were starting to drive his impulses as his hands wondered from the tie at her waist to rest on her hips. But, as always, his curiosity got the better of him. He tried his question again brushing his jaw along her cheek, "Why did you have me tie those pants to the flagpole, Partypants?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she complained leaning back to see his face.

"In last fifteen minutes, I pulled off your pants, tied them to a pole, and watched you parade around the quad in a red string that almost qualifies as panties. What do you think I should call you?" he placed a finger over her mouth to stop her from answering, "Trust me. Partypants is perfect. Besides, it has a better ring than Fatass." He couldn't help but smile when her mouth dropped in shock at his other suggestion. Her face grew a little flushed. When it looked like she might bite off the finger that was silencing her, he quickly pulled it away.

"My ass is not fat!" her voice raised an octave and slightly shrieky at the implication.

Sensing a rare opportunity, House moved his hands from her hips to her ass and gave it a strong squeeze. Expecting quick retaliation, he quipped, "Feels pretty squishy to me." Expecting a fierce hand slap, he shut his eyes. Instead, he heard a gentle giggle in his ear. It was his turn to be surprised.

Suddenly, a shiver trailed down his spine as her breath tickled his neck. Using his shoulders as support, she lifted herself onto her tippy toes. She softly brushed her lips across his ear and whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Actually, it may just be perfect," he mumbled giving her another test. He pulled back wanting to culminate the physical play that fit with their playful banter. When he saw the superior smirk on her lips, he immediately felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and nervousness, _the satisfaction of finally finding a worthy opponent and the nervousness that he hadn't felt since a certain cheerleader at Hopkins_.

"See! I was right," she replied smugly. He couldn't fight the urge to wipe that smirk off her face.

_Present_

"You paged, Mistress," House barged into Cuddy's office carrying over the delightfully sinful images that his mind rampantly cooked up after the conversation with Wilson. She threw a chart into the chair before he could sit down. He scooped it up and skimmed over the list of patient complaints. Figuring out the cause quickly, he prepared to battle with the administrator. Looking around, he realized that she was no longer in her office.

He followed the blazing trail she left towards the clinic. She stood by the nurses' station signing off on charts at rapid fire pace. When he caught up with her, she stopped him in his tracks with a glare. "House, it's your kind of case. Before you start, the patient does not have epilepsy. The medications did not stop the seizures. No, the patient does not have an infection. He has no fever, and the blood cultures came back clear," she rose her voice with each sentence drawing the attention of everyone in the clinic, "And no the patient does not have a brain tumor, clot, leak, or aneurysm. The CT scan and MRI's with and without contrast are in patient's file in his room. So, go find your lackeys and help the patient. Unless you can find some other obvious reason that he is sick."

He stood silently as she watched him expectantly. Realizing that they had a crowd, he raised the volume of his voice, "I take it that it's that time of the month, again." He thought he heard a low catlike growl before Cuddy disappeared up the stairs.

_Past_

He pressed his body into her body pushing her up against the tree. As House leaned in to kiss her, she placed her hands on his chest. She stopped him from sealing the deal. "Do you think I'm that easy?" she challenged him.

He lifted his head to glare into her eyes. When she met his steely analytic gaze with a determined smile and eyes that glared right back into his, he began to think that perhaps she wasn't as drunk as he thought. Then, again, maybe she really is that . . . _he couldn't find the right word to describe her_. "I don't think anything about you is easy," he answered pushing his lips the rest of the way to hers.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere more private," she mumbled as her lips brushed his.


	2. Confessions and Creepy Crawlies

Chapter 2: Confessions and Creepy Crawlies

_Present_

After two days of new symptoms and five unsuccessful treatments, House crash-landed on the couch in Wilson's office. He pulled his head up to observe Wilson giving him an annoyed look before he resumed going over the oncology monthly budget. House took this as his cue to begin, "My patient fell into cardiac arrest. The guy keeps having seizures. Every test keeps coming back negative."

"Don't you have a team for this?" Wilson responded without a thought.

"They're idiots. Every idea leads to nowhere. The only cool thing that's happened in the last two days is the patient's delusions," he complained.

"Why? Did he picture a world where you actually are God?" Wilson murmured sarcastically finally putting down his work.

"No, he had a delusion, where Foreman and Kutner cut him up and roasted his appendages on the grill," he responded.

Wilson looked up in disgust, "Either the guy has read Silence of the Lambs one too many times or has a recurring nightmare of Tom Petty videos. Do you want to talk about why you really came in here?"

House deflected, "My patient . . ."

Wilson ignored him and dove right into the matter, "Care to explain why Cuddy went from being a respected hospital administrator to Godzilla in heels."

House sighed and relented, "Cuddy doesn't want to play anymore."

Wilson grew angry at the childish response and went on the offensive, "House, what did you think would happen! Contrary to your opinion, Cuddy is a human being. Somehow, she can withstand ten times the normal amount of crap that you usually dump on people without taking it to heart. But sometimes you hit the person underneath."

House didn't respond. He just sat staring at the floor spinning his cane in his hand. Wilson stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He continued his rant, "She's really mad! Wherever she's storming around the hospital, everyone ducks for cover while whispering in the corners that you fucked up royally. She didn't want her personal life all over the hospital, and now that's all anyone can talk about around here."

House grew defensive at Wilson's accusations, "Her panties must be in a bunch. The thong is just on a little too tight. Too many sweets. Give it a few days. Usually, she runs it off."

Feeling like he hit a brick wall, Wilson murmured, "Not this time, House. Someone has gotten under her skin and invaded her thoughts." House's eyes lit up at his words, and he left without another word.

_Past_

"Promise me that you'll never wear pants, again," House begged as he was pushed back onto the squeaky leather couch in his apartment.

"What about all those concerns earlier when you were afraid that we'd get caught with me just in my little red panties?" she teased as she straddled his thighs and balanced herself by grabbing the back of the couch.

His initial response was an aggressive kiss testing the agility of his tongue. When she broke away and demonstrated the agility of her tongue on his ear, he attempted to gasp out, "It would . . . be worth . . . it . . . for the . . . easy . . . oh . . . . access."

She leaned back and giggled, "Are you okay? You sound a little breathless." He quickly attacked the smug smile on her face again by pulling her down to his lips. Needing some good ole' O2, she pulled away. She smiled and suggested, "I could wear skirts. They provide easy access."

House yanked the t-shirt that he had been wearing under his scrubs over his head and moved his impatient hands to the sweater hiding the cleavage that had been teasing him all across campus. "Brilliant," he mouthed hushing her when the shirt got caught on her arms. She struggled to free herself from the confines of her sweater as muffled complaints barely escaped through the fabric. House was too distracted by the rounds of perfection staring back at him. While she raised herself up on her knees working the sweater over her head, House propelled his body forward reaching out to firmly feel the elusive breasts that taunted him for the past hour. Their combined movements caused them to fall backwards into the frightening mess that accumulates when three single men live together without frequent visits from girlfriends or mothers.

House landed softly on what he could foresee as his future pillow and took a moment to rub his cheek along the soft tissue of her breast. He felt a trembling from her waist and chest. Figuring it was time to release her from the sweater trap, he pulled it off her head to find her laughing uncontrollably. She spoke between fits of laughter, "I was hoping for sex. Not Wrestlemania."

"I'm not the manic. You can't even get your clothes off. I thought that you were drunk, not mentally challenged," he snapped pulling her to her feet.

"I am not . . ." he shut her up quickly by pressing her into a wall and pressing his lips to her mouth. When he pulled back shoving her towards his bedroom, she mumbled something about bastards and fighting dirty.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he shouted into her ear from behind her.

"Just take those damn pants off, ass," she gripped the elastic waist of his scrubs and yanked them down.

"Easy. That's where the good stuff is," he smiled smugly.

"We'll see," she shoved him onto his bed divesting him of his pants and boxers. Before he could make another proud proclamation or proceed with caution quip regarding his size, she had straddled, positioned, and sunk down. The woman knew how to come, see, and conquer, but she also knew how to savor. She sunk down on him slowly allowing gravity to take over while tightening her grip around him as she reached his base. A couple clockwise rotations from her hips had his eyes sealed shut and a string of 'Oh God's' singing from his lips. When her motions ceased, he opened an eye to see what the delay was. Her face hovered just above his with that all-too-familiar smug grin.

He felt the familiar desire to make that grin vanish. This time he wanted it to disappear as she groaned, moaned, or called him God by mistake. Unfortunately, some plans never flourish, especially when a woman can twist her hips like this. As she miraculously clenched around him even tighter and twisted her hips in wider circles, he gasped, "You win. Your stuff is better."

"Glad you agree," she leaned down resting her hands on his chest. After a gentle kiss, she arched her back again and placed his hands on her breasts. Her moans were sweet music to his ears as his hands discovered the places that delighted her. Soon, his mouth joined the efforts of his hands causing her to bellow out her own chorus of Hallelujah's.

As her internal spasms grew more sporadic, House fell back onto the mattress unable to catch his breath. His thumbs grazed gently over her nipples. She stifled a groan digging her teeth into her swollen bottom lip. Tracing the sides of her breasts down to the narrow curve of her waist, his hands settled on her hips in a strong grip. For each downward thrust that she made, he met her with an upward thrust. When his lungs began to burn, he sneaked his finger between her legs. The reaction was immediate as her hips bucked down hard. She gave rapid encouragements with odd names like flagpole guy and doctor. Unsatisfied by her mutterings, he yelled, "Greg."

"What?" she gasped becoming lost in pleasurable spasms.

"House. My name is House," he shouted as he felt her body lock him in a vise grip.

"Oh god, House!" she exclaimed causing him to smile as though he won in the end. A few seconds later, he answered her with a hearty reply of Partypants.

House awoke with a snort quickly sitting up in bed. Wondering what pulled him out of the fantastic dream that allowed him to relive the experiences of the early morning, he heard his roommate cursing from the kitchen. He turned to wrap his body around the woman that gave Zorro a run for his money when it came to riding bareback. Groaning in frustration, he realized the little vixen was not hidden away in his bed. Pulling on a pair of sweats residing on his bedroom floor, he got out of bed to search for her.

_Present_

House swung the door of her office open with a resounding bang. Without looking up from her usual pile of paperwork, Cuddy mimicked in a mock baritone voice, "I need you sign this, so I can cut out a part of my patient's brain."

House sneered at the impression and replied,"Well, yeah."

She asked, "Will it save his life?"

He responded, "Yes, the patient . . ."

She cut him off, "Fine." Cuddy stood and walked around her desk. Ripping the chart out of his hands, she signed the dotted line. Handing him back the chart, she marched out into the clinic to unleash hell. House mocked to the air in her office, "The patient has a parasite invading his cerebellum, hypothalamus, and pituitary gland, which is wreaking havoc with his Autonomic system. It explains all the symptoms. We need a piece of his brain to confirm." He limped out of her office pulling the door closed quietly.

_Past_

After checking the bathroom, shower, and kitchen, House dragged himself towards the freshly brewed coffee waiting on the counter. The sophomore undergrad that lived with him and his fellow medical intern, Mark, was sweeping up a broken bottle of booze. "Good thing we finished that last night, otherwise it would have been a waste," he mumbled to the hopeless youth that cleaned up the mess.

"The counter or trash would have been a better place for the empty bottle instead of the middle of the kitchen floor," the kid gritted out through clenched teeth.

"I'll try to remember that the next time I'm drunk," House replied annoyed, "Have you seen a half naked, short brunette with an unbelievable rack wondering around here?"

"No," he responded dumping the broken bottle fragments in the trash.

"Any notes or numbers for me lying around here for me," House checked the counter looking for some sign that the crazy girl wasn't just a figment of his mind.

"No. No notes or numbers or half naked women," his roommate answered again with a slight blush at the last item.

House groaned annoyed by the naivete of the young man. If the idiot didn't buy and prepare all the food, House would have driven the pathetic undergrad out of the apartment. He walked over to the stool, where his leather jacket rested on and dug through the pockets. Eventually, he found a pair of pink panties. At least, the part with the nurse was real. Looking for a red heel or blue sweater, he searched for some sign of the mysterious woman. He looked up at his roommate when the kid screamed his name angrily.

"Is this what you're looking for?" he held up a tiny pair wet red panties, "They were floating in the sink on top of our dishes."

House reached out quickly yanking the underwear away from him. He returned to his room ignoring the protests of the man behind him with a huge grin on his face.

_Present_

House hitched up his bag over his left shoulder as Wilson joined him by the elevator. Wilson broke the ice, "How is your patient?"

"He'll live to die a different day," he murmured.

"Cuddy isn't angry anymore," Wilson mentioned with hope in his voice.

"That time of the month over already," House responded casually.

"Worse," Wilson sighed, "I found her crying in her office this afternoon. Is it really Cuddy's lady time?"

"Lady time? Who taught you that one? Your grandma or one of your ex-wives?" he smirked, "Her cycle starts on the 26th."

"How do you know that? Better yet, how many women do you know that about?" Wilson wondered as they exited the elevator.

_Past_

Lisa sat in the tiny exam room of the ER trying to control the overwhelming urge to scratch. Her hands were tightly clenched and folded in her lap. She felt her body squirm every five seconds. _Damn! Never again._ She would never give into her zealous wild nature again if it meant never having this horrendous itch again for the rest of her life. _Where is the stupid doctor? _ It seemed like an eternity had passed since the nurse had shown her to the exam room.

Finally, the door swung open with a resounding bang. Her mouth dropped open. A familiar voice greeted her, "Partypants."

_Present_

As a melodic, sorrowful tune filled the apartment, he played the Death March. The one thing he had left was about to be mercilessly slaughtered. At the end of the tune, he picked up the faded photograph taken at Hopkins. Staring at it, he threw back his third scotch enjoying the warm glow, for soon, the world was going to get very cold. He placed the tumbler down feeling the last remnants of his pride and dignity dying away. Dialing a familiar number before he lost his nerve, House pleaded, "Cuddy, I need you to come over."

_Past_

She forgot how to form words. Somehow, fate determined that out of all the doctors in the hospital she would end up with this one. The man had made her a legend overnight on Greek row and probably left her with the gift thatkept on itching. The worst part was the huge smile on his face like a cat that had a mouse cornered. How did she always attract the biggest asses on campus? Growing annoyed as his amusement, she asked, "Why do insist on calling me that?"

"It fits you, nicely," he examined her from head to toe, "I could come up with something else. Lady Liberty would be great stripper name," he suggested sliding over on the metallic stool.

"House!" she protested flushed in the cheeks.

"You're right. That's too classy. How about Breasty McNas . . ." he tried.

"House, haven't you ever heard of proper bedside manner or professionalism?" she hissed with a glare.

"Must have missed that day," he smirked, "Besides, when your voice gets loud and raspy like that, it reminds me of all that moaning you did on top of me."

"If I recall, you waved the white flag before I even got started," she smiled her smug little smile, "You could try calling me by my actual name."

"I would if you had bothered mentioning it," he enjoyed as her smile was replaced with red cheeks, "At last, we get to get to answer the great question. Who is the woman out of the pants?" House gleefully read the chart, "Ms. Lisa Cuddy."

Dreading the impending exam, Lisa requested, "I want to see another doctor."

He took a moment to assess her face and body language, "No, you don't. You came to the ER instead of the school clinic to avoiding running into someone that you know. From the way you were squirming earlier and rubbing your thighs together, I'm guessing the holy land was desecrated."

Cuddy stared at him in shock, "How did you . . .Oh God! Did you infect me with this nightmare?"

House looked her straight in the eye, "I was about to ask you the same question?"

"Real chivalrous," she sniped, "Has anyone told you that you're an ass?"

"Everyday," he chuckled.

"Face facts, House. Your reputation speaks for itself. You'll sleep with anything that bends over," she ranted with fury.

"Yet, it didn't stop you from bending over," he threw her argument back in her face.

"I did not bend over. I had you on your back begging," she retorted crossing her arms over her chest.

House attempted to fire back an insult but found no lies in her statement. Instead, he pulled closer to the table resting his hand on her knee. He leered at the tight pencil skirt, "You were right about skirts, easy access. Now, lift it up."

"No, House!" Cuddy emphasized her point by shaking her head.

"Come on, Cuddy. I need to see it to confirm the diagnosis," he coaxed.

"You're right. It's Pediculosis. Just write me a script for Stromectol," she sighed in defeat.

"Wait here," House muttered retreating from the exam room.

_Present_

"It's open," House yelled at the knock on the door. Cuddy shuffled in desperately trying to balance her purse, diaper bag, and child. Dropping the two bags, she calmly placed a slumbering Rachel in her car seat down on the coffee table obscuring House's view. Heading back to the door, she pulled off her coat stashing it on the coat rack. When she slumped down onto coach next to House, he was watching her with equal parts of amusement and annoyance on his features. "Why the hell am I here, House?" Cuddy poured all her frustration into the statement.

"On the piano," he mumbled focusing all his attention onto the television.

Deciding to play along, she walked over to the piano and looked for what was so urgent. Picking up the picture, she felt her temples begin to throb. If she killed him right now, she could probably get away with a temporary insanity plea. Remembering to keep her voice down, she sat next to House and hissed through clenched teeth, "You made me wake up and drag my sleeping child, who screamed for half the ride over here, to look at some fake photo of you."

"Keep your voice down, or you'll wake the screamer," House hushed her and paused for a second before adding, "She's already so much like her mother."

Cuddy slugged him in the bicep, "Shut up, ass."

"Are these the kind of manners you want her to pick up?" he patronized while rubbing his arm.

"I plan on arming her with much more than just a strong right hook for when she has to deal with you," Cuddy smiled at last.

"Take that," he paused stopping himself from calling Rachel _that thing or it_, "Take her into my bedroom and lay her down on my bed. Then, you can come out here and give me a proper tongue lashing." He finished the last part of his statement with a leering look down her body.

She scrutinized his face trying to figure out his angle, "Is it sanitary enough to put her on that bed?" House didn't answer her giving her a frustrated look. "Fine," she huffed picking up Rachel. Entering his bedroom, she was pleased to see that it was free from dirty clothes and empty food containers. The bed was made with a soft duvet cover that she ran her hand over. After laying out a spare blanket that she promised to wash immediately once home, she arranged a fort of pillows to surround her daughter. Picking Rachel out of her car seat, Cuddy gently laid her down hoping not to wake the sleeping babe. Her heart warmed when the little girl yawned and wiggled a bit before settled back into a deep sleeping rhythm. Once Rachel was tucked in, Cuddy mentally chided herself when she thought that it was nice that at least one of them got to sleep in House's bed.

Heading down the hall, she readied her argument in her head preparing for battle once again. She stopped in her path when she saw several Chinese cartons and two cold beers set up on the coffee table. House was situating into a comfortable position on the couch. Fumbling with the remotes, the screen on the television switched over to the opening menu of the latest _Bond_ movie. "Come sit down. I hate it when people hover over the couch when I'm watching television."

Operating on automatic pilot, an insult slipped from her mouth as she moved to the other side of the couch, "You know people?"

"Okay, I hate it when Wilson hovers," he answered patting the seat next to him.

Unable to stop herself, Cuddy said what she thought for once, "House, is this a date?"

_Past_

Cuddy was rapidly pacing back and forth in the small 8 ft. x 5 ft. exam room that she had been trapped in for the last 90 minutes. House had disappeared without an explanation 20 minutes 15 seconds ago. She glanced at her watch and up on the clock on the wall before resuming her pacing. A few seconds later, she neurotically checked the time again at her wrist and on the wall. If he didn't show up soon, she swore that either the watch or the clock would become a victim to her impatience.

After fifteen rounds in the exam room and thirty checks on the time, House appeared as the door slammed open. Cuddy jumped at his sudden entrance grasping her shirt above her heart and shrieking in fright. House smirked as he heard the squeak, "See I don't even have to try to get you to scream."

Cuddy scowled, "Do you always have to announce your presence with a slamming door? You could try knocking instead of scaring the hell out of me every half hour."

House walked up and leaned in closer to her face, "You know that you look even sexier with your face all crinkled up like that."

"Never going to happen, House," Cuddy warned him narrowing her eyes as they glared with fire.

"Shame your happy place is currently contaminated, otherwise; we could have christened this exam room," House intensified his gaze and smirk.

"For some reason, I don't think that would actually stop you. You just figured out that you're only shot was when I was so blasted that I was seeing double," Cuddy flashed him a familiar smug grin.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked drifting in closer.

"Sure, House," she replied rolling her eyes. Noticing the bag in his hands, Cuddy grabbed the bag to see what was so urgent that he left her without writing her scripts and setting her loose. Digging through the bag, she pulled out a bottle of liquid medicine. She complained, "What the hell, House? You disappear for 30 minutes to return with a prescription of cough syrup. How did you earn such of distinguished reputation as an intern if you can't tell the difference between Stromectol and cough syrup?"

"The syrup was a distraction. I needed to keep the pharmacist guy busy while I'll slipped into the back and snatched this," House explained handing her the requested medicine, "I going to write that you came in for a nasty cough on the chart. That way no one knows about the creepy crawlies except me." He whipped open her chart scribbling a quick note. When he looked up at his patient, her mouth was hanging out again just like when he walked into the room. He smirked again, "Careful, a fly will land in there if you keep dropping it open."

"I . . . that is . . . why are . . .," Cuddy struggled to figure out what he was trying to do, "House, I'm not going to let you into my pants because you lied on my chart. You can't blackmail me."

"Who said that I wanted to get back into your pants?" House lashed back.

"Less than a minute ago, you were trying to get me to christen this room," she glared at him.

"No. I said it's a shame that you're infected because it would fun to christen this room," he argued clearly amused with a superior look.

"Why would you do this?" she asked quietly watching the floor with great interest.

"You don't want anyone to know," he answered with a shrug, "Besides you earned it." House slipped out the door blocking out the burning glare focused at his back.

_Present_

Both Cuddy and House were counting the silent seconds as he tried to answer her question. Her know-it-all smile only grew as each second lapsed. Scowling at her smile, House reached over grabbing her hand and yanked her down onto the couch next to him. Cuddy shifted until she was comfortable resting her feet onto the coffee table. House hit play on the DVD picking up the closest Chinese carton.

Cuddy looked over at him grinning wider and stated, "You like me."

He murmured, "It's not a date. It's food. Now shut up. The movie is starting." Cuddy sighed in resignation and grabbed her own carton of food.

_Past_

House nodded his head to acknowledge the presence of his fellow intern, Mark, as he approached the nurse's station. Mark was too distracted to even notice his motion. His eyes were currently fixated on the tight black skirt attached to the form of a retreating Lisa Cuddy. When she and her behind were no longer in view, Mark turned to House with a boyish grin of appreciation. "Let me guess. You got to treat that patient," Mark grinned equally envious and amused.

"You should have seen what lies below the skirt," House gave his trademark roguish grin.

"Don't tell me you got her to . . . in the exam room?!" Mark exclaimed in awe.

House opened his mouth to brag that he may not have had her in the exam room, but he had seen her flex her riding muscles in third different positions in the comfort of his own bed. Yet, the words were stuck on his tongue. Instead, he replied, "The poor girl had a cough. I had to make sure those sneaky little buggers didn't reach any vital areas."

Mark gave him a skeptical look. He snatched her chart and gazed over the relevant facts. He remarked, "Sure, House. Though next time you have a patient with a rack or ass like that, be sure to call for a consult."

_Present_

"Will they ever find someone to play Bond that is even halfway as good as Sean Connery was?" Cuddy complained as the credits rolled on the television screen.

House smiled at statement. _The woman has taste_. He leaned in closer to her placing his arm on to her shoulder and cocked his right eyebrow up slightly. In his best British accent, he coaxed, "House, Greg House."

Cuddy eyed him for a moment before bursting out with laughter, "Your accent is horrible. Besides, I always thought you wanted to be Mick Jagger."

House's smile dropped into a sneer, "I figured that I'm the perfect hybrid of musical philosopher and gentleman spy."

Cuddy snickered, "Sure, House. Now, we did your dinner and movie. Mind telling me what the huge emergency was."

"Movie_s_ aren't over. Get up and put in the next one," House tried to stall the conversation about the real reason that she was there.

Cuddy debated whether she should get up, retrieve Rachel, and flee. But the evening hadn't turned disastrous, she walked over to the entertainment center to exam the movies. Picking up the stack of films, she checked the next selection. Reading one word into the title, she glared back at House, "House! This is low even for you. I am not watching _Debbie Does Dallas_ with you, at least, not without a shotgun handy."

"Why not? You always told me that you love classic movies," House delighted in the sudden blush on her cheeks. Cuddy just continued to scowl at him. Shrugging his shoulders, he suggested, "Maybe the next one."

"You remembered," she looked at him pleasantly surprised.

_Past_

Cuddy jumped in her seat as a resounding bang filled her quiet study room. Immediately annoyed, she turned towards the door to yell at whoever had disrupted her studies. She jumped again when a heavy moldy textbook as thick as the Oxford Dictionary slammed onto the table. She could feel a growl growing in her throat as she glared upon the familiar image of man that was quickly becoming her nemesis. "What do you want?" she grounded out between clenched teeth.

House was unable to contain a chuckle at her expression, "Quiet place to read. I figured that would obvious considering we're in a library." He claimed the seat opposite her propping his feet up on the table. Determined not to let him win, Cuddy dove back into her books with fervor.

Five minutes later, she squinted her eyes at him reminding herself not to yell in the library. She hissed in frustration, "Knock it off." House closed the book that he was supposedly reading and shoved it off the table. The resonating noise horrified her. She accused with increasing fury, "That isn't remotely what I meant."

"I'm sorry. What did you mean?" House silently challenged her to say it.

"Stop staring at my breasts like some undersexed fourteen year old. You're a doctor for Christ's stake," she responded.

"It's your fault," he replied calmly.

"Excuse me," she grew angry.

"If you didn't want men to acknowledge the girls, you never would have worn that shirt. You knew the kind of attention that you'd get for wearing it. In actuality, you are nothing but a tease putting the goodies on display like that and refuting anyone that gives them proper attention," he countered.

"Did you have a sexually repressed adolescence or something? You seemed determine to prove the statistic that men think about sex every four seconds," she asked with a slightly amused smile.

"I'd estimate that I personally think about it every 2 seconds. I always was an overachiever," House waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"You're a pervert," she shook her head letting go a light chuckle.

"No need for flattery. Just call me Dr. Nine inches long," he got her to really laugh, "Now get your head out of those books, and let's get those beauties out where they can be properly ogled."

"Can't. Test is tomorrow," Cuddy put her nose back to the grindstone.

"Cuddy, you've been at it all week. Learn to indulge in life every decade or so," he whined.

"Some of us take pride in our work, House. If it annoys you, stop following me to the library like a love sick puppy," she issued her own challenge.

"Come on, Cuddy. Its two hours. I haven't met a woman that doesn't love _Casablanca_," House pestered while evading her last comment.

"I never seen that," she admitted.

"Perfect. Now put down the work, unclench your ass cheeks, and let's go," he ushered her towards the door.

Her amused expression disappeared. She called him a few choice expletives before fleeing the library. House leaned back in the chair smirking at her response before opening an obscure Italian journal about cancer and infection.

_Present_

As the credits rolled on _Casablanca_, Cuddy lifted her head off his shoulder to gauge his reaction to the movie. She couldn't help but smile when she found him fast asleep. Pulling a blanket off the adjacent chaise, she covered House on the couch. Before looking in on Rachel, she picked up the Chinese containers and empty bottles. After she had cleaned the utensils from dinner and few dirty dishes in the sink, she couldn't fight the impulse to clean out the questionable items in his refrigerator.

Heading into the bedroom, she instantly regretted having to wake her slumbering daughter. She placed the diaper bag on top of a stack of medical journals on the left nightstand before reaching down to pick up the car seat. When the bag and journals crashed onto the floor, Cuddy released a quiet sigh of relief as Rachel continued to sleep peacefully. Gathering up the stack, she grimaced when she picked up the latest issue of House's favorite nudie magazine. A piece of paper fell out of the centerfold when she picked up the magazine. Shocked by the list, she smiled placing it on top of the pile. She put the car seat and bag back onto the floor. Digging out a t-shirt, Cuddy started to get ready for bed.


	3. Test Prep

Chapter 3: Test Prep

_Past _

"Come on, Cuddy," House whined, "I'm bored."

"Then, leave," she insisted drowning out his pleas as she reviewed her notes.

"Cuddy," he whined again poking at her neatly organized piles of books and notes.

"House, either stop complaining or go away," Cuddy snapped with an air of authority in her voice.

"But mom!" House continued his relentless whines.

"No, I'm not leaving. How many times to I have to explain to you that not everyone remembers every little obscure fact they read? I actually have to study if I plan to get into medical school," she rose her voice.

House scrutinized her for a moment and responded, "Come with me now, and I will quiz you for your test later."

"House, I don't think . . . ." Cuddy tried.

"Come on. I guarantee you'll enjoy it," he tempted her. Cuddy scrutinized him for a moment before nodding in agreement.

_Present_

House was shocked from sleep by an annoying persistent knock at his door. "House, its Wilson! I'm coming in!" an annoying voice shouted. A second later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Wilson rushed in spotting House on the couch. He roamed about the room frantically grabbing House's cane, jacket, keys, and Vicodin. He began tossing the items at House while explaining, "Get up. Cuddy and Rachel are missing. She never showed up for breakfast this morning. I stopped by her house, and her car was gone. She's not at the hospital. Her sister and mother haven't heard from her. Neither have Chase or Cameron."

House swallowed down his handful of morning Vicodin while unconsciously rubbing his leg that had been propped up on the coffee table all night. He looked around for signs of Cuddy but realized that she must have left after the movie finished. Trying to comprehend Wilson's rambling, he suggested, "Did you try her cell?"

"Of course!" Wilson explained exasperatedly. House decided to ignore his ranting and try her cell himself. When her cell went to voicemail, he felt the bile rising in his throat.

"Would you two idiots shut up!" Cuddy yelled from the hallway over a screaming child. Wilson and House turned to see her cooing Rachel in nothing but one of House's t-shirts. The mouths of both men fell agape. After shifting Rachel to her hip, she ordered House to make some coffee and wandered back into his bedroom.

Recovering from his shock, House turned to Wilson, who was smiling like the Jewish mother whose child brought home the attractive Jewish doctor. "Nothing happened, Yentil. The electricity went out in her house, so she came here for the night," House explained before Wilson could start gushing.

"I just came from her house. The electricity is fine," Wilson countered.

"Good. I can finally get the succubus and parasite out of here before they suck the life force from me," House escaped to the kitchen.

"You're evading which means something did happen," Wilson smiled wider following him into the kitchen.

The tone of his voice rose, "Nothing happened. She just needed a place to stay." He settled onto a stool by the island while Wilson began pulling out ingredients hidden away in dusty cabinets to make breakfast.

"Right, nothing happened. That explains why Cuddy was wearing your shirt and sleeping in your bed," Wilson opened the fridge, "Did you get a maid? Your fridge is spotless."

"Yeah, it's the new hooker service I use, Maid-n-Laid. They even wear the French maid uniforms," House rolled his eyes.

"We also carry feather dusters and wear black garters," Cuddy added sarcastically when she entered the kitchen, "Good morning, Wilson. Sorry, I didn't call. We overslept this morning." She nuzzled Rachel's cheek as she apologized to Wilson. Walking over to House, she held the baby out to him to hold. He eyed her like she had lost her mind. Pushing Rachel into his arms, Cuddy dug out formula and a bottle. Wilson smiled knowingly at House, and House responded with a sneer.

"So, what did you two do last night?" Wilson asked with a smirk.

"We just had Chinese and watched a movie," Cuddy answered taking Rachel back to feed her.

"Dinner and a movie, huh? In the western world, we call that a date," Wilson responded.

"It wasn't a date," House and Cuddy replied simultaneously.

_Past_

"What is a xenobiotic?" House asked Cuddy helping her prepare for her microbiology exam the following afternoon.

"It's a chemical product made by humans that is released into the environment but does not naturally OCCUR in NATURE," Cuddy answered correctly.

"Correct," House assured her swirling his tongue around the area he had just nipped, "Explain the problem with xenobiotics and cite an example."

Taking in a calming breath, Cuddy tried to ignore House as he started to pull down the straps of her bra, "They can contaminate the environment and continue to remain in the environment since there is no guarantee that local microorganisms can degrade xenobiotics. The main product, which is currently in debate, is DDT. Researchers are finding evidence of DDT in all levels of the food chain in areas, where DDT is used. Reports are showing the amount of DDT in the organisms actually increases as they move higher up the food chain."

"Very good, Ms. Cuddy," House flung her bra over his shoulder and supported her _twins_ with his hands, "What are researchers calling this phenomena?"

Lost in his ministrations, Cuddy missed the question. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder giving him better access to her neck and shoulder. Feeling his teeth sink gently into her shoulder, she returned to the present. "Bio . . . oh god . . . bioma . . .," her attention was lost as his hand entertained more promising venues.

"Come on, Cuddy. Last question, name the trend," House urged while increasing the distractions below by pressing harder with his fingers.

"God, you're an ass," she panted, "Biomagn . . . ification."

"Excellent," House smirked.

"Shut up, House," Cuddy turned and pushed him back onto the bed before attacking him.

_Present _

"Breakfast was delicious, Wilson. Thank you," Cuddy thanked him for the meal as she secured Rachel into her car seat. Slipping her bags onto her arm, she reached over kissing him on the cheek. Walking around the table, she stood in front of House, who was watching her suspiciously. Before he could put his two sense in, she cupped his cheek and kissed him softly on the mouth. As she scooped up Rachel, she turned to face the stunned men, "House, next Friday same time at my place. Bye, Wilson. Bye, House." They sat in silence moments after the door shut. House reached across the table and pinched Wilson.

"Ow! House, what the hell! That hurt!" Wilson pulled his arm back.

"So, that just now, wasn't a dream," he questioned Wilson.

"Nope," he responded. Silence followed again after the brief exchange.

Sensing that Wilson was about to initiate another talk, House grabbed his coffee mug and escaped to the couch. He grabbed a bottle of Bourbon and dumped some into his coffee. Wilson took the seat next to him and held out his mug, so House could add a shot or two to his coffee as well. House raised an eyebrow, "No lectures on drinking before noon."

"I think that we both need it after that," Wilson reclined back into the couch, "Are you ever going to tell me what happened last night, or do I have to torture the information out of you?"

House chuckled, "We both know that whatever you have planned that I can unleashed something just as bad or worse."

"Don't forget who supplies your Vicodin," Wilson smirked.

"You wouldn't," House was actually astonished for a moment.

"For Cuddy, I would," Wilson named his terms.

House relented knowing eventually Wilson would pry the information from one of them, "I called her up and told her that I needed to see her. She came over. We ate Chinese and watched a movie."

"What changed your mind?" Wilson asked.

Not expecting the question, House turned away trying to temper his emotions, "It was time."

"Not what I meant. Why now? Why Cuddy? Cameron had to practically blackmail you to get you to take her on a date. Now, out of the blue, you ask Cuddy over for what everyone else would call a date," Wilson went into psychologist role.

"I don't know," he mumbled, "I called her over just to give her something. She arrived just before the food did, so I asked her to stay."

"What did you want to give her?" Wilson wondered.

"Just an old photograph," he answered.

"This?" Wilson picked up the photo that laid on the table in front of them, "Whoa! Is that you in a cheerleading squad?"

House grabbed the photo away from him. Looking at the old picture, he sighed over Wilson's snickers, "See the blonde in front. I did it for her."

"I can't believe that you were going to give this to Cuddy. She could torture you with it," Wilson heard the light bulb dink in his head, "That's why you did it. You wanted to give a her piece of leverage after telling that Michigan story." House refused to look at Wilson and turned on the Yankee Workshop to drown out his thinking.

"My god! You wanted to do something nice for Cuddy. You do care about her," Wilson almost squealed with the exuberance of a high school cheerleader, "Seems to have worked considering her reaction this morning."

House suddenly sat up contemplating what Wilson said, "I didn't tell her about the photo. She thinks that it's a fake. That doesn't explain her actions this morning or last night." House shifted and lifted himself off the couch. Darting towards his bedroom, Wilson followed trying to understand why House was overly curious. Both men surveyed the bedroom looking for clues as to why Cuddy was affectionate. They took in the perfectly made bed, the clean floor, and neat stacks of reading material. Spotting a magazine out of place, House limped over to the left side nightstand. He frowned when he saw the list that was supposed to be safely hidden way with Ms. April.

Wilson read the list over his shoulder, "Methadone, physical rehabilitation, therapy, water therapy, pain management therapy. House, is this what I think it is? Are you trying to get help?"

_Past_

Cuddy collapsed on top of a sweaty panting House. Resting her hands along his collarbone, her head nestled just below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her back gently stroking his hand up and down along her spine. After a moment of savoring the intimacy, Cuddy began to shift her body to roll off him. Tightening his grip, House bid, "Stay."

Raising her head to look at him, she teased, "I'm starting to think that you like me."

"Yeah, I like your legs, boobs, and definitely your ass. I'm not sure yet, but I think I'm falling in love with your squishy place," he deflected.

As House reversed their positions, Cuddy grinned, "How many squishy places have you claimed to love?"

Placing a soft kiss on her lips, House answered, "You're the first." He quickly bent down to suckle along the column of her neck.

When he reached her collarbone, Cuddy asked, "In Michigan?" He continued to snake a path with his lips between her breasts down her abdomen circling her belly button with his tongue. Her lower back arched slightly off the bed. She tried her question again but only succeeded in a moan, "House?" Her hips bucked when his teeth softly scraped over the junction between her hip and thigh.

"Anywhere," he confessed drawing her legs wider apart.

_Present_

After safely tucking the list back into its home between the glossy assets of Ms. April, he sunk down onto his mattress avoiding the scrutinizing looks of his own personal therapist/mother/conscience/personal feeder/best friend. He turned over onto his other side away from Wilson hoping that sleep would overtake him. Dreams always had been a powerful place for him to seek solutions, epiphanies, and the fantasies that he never thought possible. Maybe he could figure out how to undo or deny what Cuddy had found or magically make the overbearing Wilson disappear. His eyes popped open while he inhaled the essence of Cuddy left on his sheets. He groaned when Wilson stated his name in that fatherly authoritative voice.

Wilson watched him roll onto his back and sighed, "Come on, House. You hid the Methadone from us. We still figured it out. Then, I found out about the therapist in New York. Just admit that you're tired of being miserable."

House shot his eyes over to Wilson after his little speech, "You didn't tell Cuddy why I was really in New York?"

Wilson sighed again, "No. I thought if I left it alone that you would try to find someone else to see." House eyes wondered back to an invisible spot on the ceiling. Wilson felt an unsettling tug in his gut that his friend was going to start another round of avoiding Cuddy instead of facing their evolving relationship. Another round of stalemate was going to end one of three ways: Cuddy crying in a ball in a dark corner, House overdosing on hookers or drugs, or he would be drinking Mylanta by the gallon full. He decided to try another direction, "You never answered my question. Why did you choose Cuddy?"

"She's always there," he conceded.

_Past_

House fought off the weariness and fogginess of sleep surrendering a loud groan when a sharp set of teeth lightly tweaked his nipple. The same mouth suckled and nipped tracing the line of his collarbone eliciting several more moans. "Took you long enough to wake up," the impatient woman torturing him accused.

"Who was the first one to fall asleep?" he reminded her as her form suddenly moved over his.

She lifted her face to his feasting on his bottom lip for a moment before settling her pelvis over his. As her hips began to grind against him in agonizingly slow circles, she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I was satisfied last night, but I'm hungry now." Her statement was emphasized when her mouth devoured the lobe of his ear.

"Oh gawd!" he gasped as his back arched off the bed.

"I thought that you didn't believe in God. You claimed to be an atheist," she taunted releasing his ear but increasing the speed of her hips.

"I am, but you're starting to make me rethink the existence of the devil," he gritted out as his hands found their way to her hips.

"Devil in heels, huh?" she smirked lifting her hips when he increased the pressure of his fingertips on her hips.

"Something like that," he groaned as gravity pulled her down on him, "God, you're insatiable."

"Ever think that I'm not the devil. Maybe I'm a guardian angel," she smiled rocking herself slightly back and forth.

"I'd sooner believe in the devil," House groaned trying to make her move faster.

"Angels are always there looking out for you," she lifted her hips higher giving him a little of what his hands pleaded for while keeping the pace slow.


	4. Quiet Moments and Pent up Frustrations

Chapter 4: Quiet Moments and Pent up Frustrations

A/N: The only real plot here is in the Present parts. The past sections are just little stories that show how Cuddy and House developed their 'relationship' at Michigan.

_Present_

On Monday, Cuddy sauntered into House's office with a blue folder in hand. She looked around his office noting his leather jacket and bag. She walked into the adjacent conference room, which was just as empty with the exception of Foreman. He took in her appearance and smile before asking with a sly grin, "Looking for House?"

Not too pleased with the obviousness of her happiness, she resorted effortlessly back into the role of Dean. She held up the folder, "New case."

Foreman motioned for her to hand to it to him. After assessing the patient in question, Foreman assured her, "We'll take the case."

"Right. How will you convince House?" Cuddy countered knowing her years of persuading House made her much more convincing than Foreman ever could imagine. Plus the low-cut red blouse helped a bit.

"The guy has pockets of black ooze bubbling on his skin. The fungus and bacteria cultures are negative, and the tissue isn't dying. He'll rip the file out of my hand once he hears that," Foreman smiled slightly knowing he was right.

"Let me know when you find him," she headed out of the office.

When the clacking of Cuddy's heels was gone, House suddenly emerged in the hall and slipped into the office. He grabbed the file from Foreman reading over the symptoms. "Page 13 and Taub," he told Foreman, "Don't page Cuddy."

"Avoiding each other again," Foreman raised an eyebrow in question.

"Is 13 sleeping with women yet?" House shot back. Foreman paged his fellow doctors.

On Tuesday, Cuddy walked into Exam Room 2 of the clinic ready to verbally battle House that the Mets' game did not constitute doing clinic hours. She stopped in tracks when she saw a patient on the exam table being looked after a doctor. Of course, it was not the doctor she expected. "Where's House, Dr. Hadley?" she asked.

"Haven't seen him since the differential a couple hours ago?" she answered without turning away from the patient.

"I've been by his office twice today. He hasn't been in his office either time," Cuddy replied.

"We've only had one differential in the office all week. The last one was in the morgue," 13 replied like it was everyday procedure.

"Why are you doing House's clinic hours?" Cuddy responded growing increasing irritated.

"Lost a bet," 13 finally smiled at Cuddy.

On Wednesday, Cuddy entered the room of House's patient. She picked up the chart examining the various medications and procedures that the man had to endure under the practice of Dr. House. She frowned when she read all the treatments and tests were standard.

"Is something wrong?" the patient inquired fearing the unhappy look of the doctor before him.

Putting on her reassuring smile, Cuddy spent twenty minutes explaining to the patient that nothing was wrong and that his doctors were doing everything possible to help.

On Thursday, Cuddy walked in a few minutes prior to nine in the morning. She ran into an exhausted looking Taub wearing his trench. He was mindlessly heading towards the exit. She grabbed her handful of messages from the receptionist at the desk calling out to Taub, "Going home?"

He looked up at her startled. When he realized who was addressing him, he walked over to Cuddy placing his briefcase next to hers on the desk. He answered, "Yeah. Long night."

"How's the patient?" she asked.

"Stable. The treatment is working. House finally figured out what was killing him around four this morning," he filled her in on the patient's current status.

"Go home. Rest," she placed a hand on his shoulder with a kind smile. Picking up her briefcase, she started to head towards her office.

"He left about 30 minutes ago. If I had to guess, I bet he was on his way home," Taub stated to her back.

"Who?" Cuddy tried to ask innocently.

"We had differentials in janitors' closets all week. He turned down any suggestion that would require your sign-off. Whatever is going on between the two of you, it would make my job easier if it was fixed," Taub recalled the observations of the team over the past week, "Good luck." Taub gave her his version of a kind smile before walking out the door.

_Past_

Cuddy walked out of her class unable to contain her huge smile. She had passed the exam with a perfect score and played the images of her 'study session' through her mind during the entire lecture. Her mind was lost in another scenario when a deep voice pulled out of her reverie. When she saw House waiting for her outside the lecture hall, her trademark superior grin came out to play. After everyone had cleared from the hall, he approached her grabbing her paper from her hands.

"Told you I was right. We'll have to study for all your tests that way from now on," House smirked while the potential of 'study sessions' flashed in his eyes.

"I only did that well because I spent the entire week reviewing the material before you tortured it out of me," she grabbed the test back arguing methods with him.

"We could try it my way next time to see whose way really is the most effective," he leered reaching to grab her.

"My GPA would die if I let you have your way," Cuddy stared up into his gaze.

"You'll never be a good doctor if you're not willing to question the obvious or try the outrageous," he challenged staring back at her.

"You could help me study for the MCAT," Cuddy suggested. House just broadened his smile.

_Present_

House opened his door curious as to why Wilson didn't just use his key instead of knocking annoyingly. The idiot had interrupted a nice dozing fantasy. His mind wasn't quite ready to take on the livid Cuddy that entered his apartment as the door swung open.

"Good. You're alive," she spat slamming the door shut.

"What do you want?" he fired back at her.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she asked without hesitation.

"I'm not avoiding you," he deflected.

"I didn't see you in your office once this past week. You gathered your team in a different place for each differential. You purposely didn't use a psychotic test or treatment, so you didn't need to come to me," she discounted his statement.

"You're just upset because I proved that I can treat a patient without having to run to you for approval," he argued with an accusing finger.

"Bullshit!" she screamed, "You live for the moments when you get to put me in my place and prove that your method is the best."

"That's not true," he responded not looking at her and in a much quieter tone.

"Why do you barrage into my office and throw every suggestion back in my face when you have a case?" she asked in a nervous giggle rubbing the throbbing sinuses above her eyes.

"Maybe I like seeing you," House answered softly. Cuddy responded gracefully with a mouth open wide in shock. House laughed lightly moving into her personal space. He tucked at the bottom of her chin urging her to close it, "You know flies could fly in if you leave it hanging open like that."

"Maybe other things can find their way in, too," she responded pulling his head towards her as he leaned in to her.

_Past_

Cuddy laid on the edge of his bed in one of his band t-shirts reading a MCAT study guide. Her left hand held a half eaten slice of pizza and a beer in the right hand. House sat behind her nuzzling her neck. He glided his hand along the curve of her left arm until he gripped her wrist. Pulling her hand back towards him, he leaned over taking a large bite of her pizza. He did the same with her right hand nearly emptying her bottle of beer. She turned her head looking at him over her shoulder, "You're an ass." She squealed with joy as he pulled her back for a kiss.

_Present_

Cuddy shoved House into the wall simultaneously shoving her tongue in his mouth. House dropped his cane choosing to touch Cuddy over maintaining his balance. Of course, the wall that she had him pinned against was helping him from falling over to the ground. He had closed his eyes at some point between going in for a kiss and being trapped against the wall. His eyes shot open when his hands discovered a topless Cuddy. Her jacket had been flung over the end table by the door, and her shirt was no where to be seen. "Feeling feisty?" House asked playfully, his voice full of amusement.

Cuddy yanked down his jacket throwing it on top of hers. Her hands were undoing his buttons at rapid speed, and his shirt was yanked off his shoulders a second later. Palming the obvious tent in the front of his jeans, she grinned, "I'm not the only one." House knocked his head against the wall releasing a hiss at her action. Cuddy took the opportunity to attack his exposed neck.

He bit back another hiss when her teeth dug into his pulse point on the left side of his neck. Leaving a trail of wet kisses up his neck to his ear, she leaned back giving him a sultry smile. Tugging him by the t-shirt beneath the button-down shirt, Cuddy backed up towards House's bedroom dragging an enraptured House with her. When he latched onto her hips, she bit her bottom lip with her incisors. He groaned at her eagerness commenting, "Been awhile since the last time?"

She narrowed her eyes and pushed him against his bedroom door. Tearing his shirt off his arms and lifting his t-shirt up over his head, she leaned in closer surrounding his senses. Cuddy showered kisses along his jawline, "For the last six years, you have been stalking me on dates, chasing men away from my bed, and laying claim to me without allowing me to vent any of the frustration that comes with tangoing with you. Enough with the damn foreplay, you owe me." She sunk her teeth into the right side of his neck giving him matching marks on both sides of his neck.

"Easy, Vampira," House hissed trying to gain the upper hand backing her towards the bed.

"Get used to it. Six years, House," she growled in a voice not too far off from her administrator tone. She flipped their positions and pushed him down onto the bed. Her hands had his jeans undone before he hit the bed. She slowed down for a moment gently moving his pants over his thighs. Once the jeans were clear, she resumed her pace.

"Yes, mistress," House focused his attention on her chest as she reached back to undo her bra.

_Past_

House walked in after a late night rotation at the hospital. He threw his keys on the end table by the door and tossed his jacket on the back of the couch. Running his hand over his exhausted face, he headed down the hall into his bedroom. The sight on his bed took him a little by surprise. Cuddy nestled herself into the middle of the bed with her arm and leg flung over on his side.

He had not been expecting her to come tonight after telling her that he was working late rounds. Books surrounded her resting form attesting to her personal dedication to her work. Releasing a deep sigh, he tossed the books on the ground and rolled her body to turn her on her side. The soft moan that she made as he repositioned her inadvertently caused him to smile. After he stripped off his scrubs and showered off the scent of antiseptic, he wrapped his body around her before slipping off to sleep.

_Present_

"Keep calling me that, and you'll never be on top, again," she threatened slapping his hands away from her breasts. She shoved him back on the bed before he made his quip. He smirked remaining quiet as she pulled down the black slacks covering entirely too much of her body. Once the slacks were gone, he renewed his grip on her waist pulling her closer till she fell on top of him.

Happy to have her in a manageable position, he sensed it was time for the retort that he had been holding back, "I knew you were hiding a set of chains and whips somewhere. Wilson and Foreman owe me and Chase a couple hundred."

"House!" Cuddy screamed sitting back onto her knees.

"If you're going to tie me down to the bed and punish me for starting rumors or making bets, I think you can come up with a better pet name than House," he teased her sitting up to spar with her.

With a frightening growl in her voice, Cuddy glared at him leaning in closer, "You're right. Which one do you prefer ass, idiot, or bastard?"

"Do you have any idea how sexy you sound when you use that tone?" House confessed while he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her lips to his.

_Past_

"Mmm . . . House, it's too early. Wake me up later. We can have sex then," Cuddy complained through her sleepy haze.

"As fun as that sounds, you have class in 30 minutes. Though, I think it's more than enough time to get ready, you always get feisty when I attempt to play with your fun parts," House responded sounding just as sleepy. After a moment of thought, he added, "But not in the good way."

"Tell me you're lying," Cuddy pleaded burrowing her head deeper into the pillows.  
"Check yourself, princess," House handed her a watch.

"Damn! Why didn't you wake me up?" Cuddy yelped sitting up in bed. She hustled around the room grabbing her clothes and screaming another expletive when she slammed her toes on her books that House had put on the floor the prior night. She gave him a harsh glare before retreating into the bathroom to prepare for the day. House couldn't help but smile at her morning dance.

_Present_

"I have to get home. My Nanny leaves in an hour," Cuddy slapped House's hand away when he pulled her back against his body.

"That means you have 30 minutes till you need to leave," House grabbed her hip tighter pulling her back on to the bed.

"Not if I take a shower, call the hospital, and plan to walk into my house without looking like I spent the day satisfying your every whim," Cuddy argued lifting his hand off her hip.

"You can take a shower when you get the little screamer asleep, call the hospital on your way home, and no amount of water is going to wash that sated smile off your face," House countered reaching around to secure a hand around her breast.

"Little screamer?" Cuddy began to pull his hand off her body.

"I believe that we fully established who the big screamer is during the last few hours," he smirked from behind her sneaking his other hand under her body. Cupping her other breast, he pulled her body till it was flush with his own, "But if you're not convinced, we could spend the next half hour proving that theory again."

"House, we don't have time for this," she shifted her form trying to worm away from him.

"Either actually push me off of you-and don't act like you don't know how to hurt me-or lift your leg," he growled reacting to her wiggling.

"I don't scream," she growled back finally giving in and elevating her leg. Her head rolled back onto his shoulder as he positioned himself between her thighs. She felt him smile against the nape of her neck when she moaned loudly. Trying to figure out how to get the upper hand, Cuddy bit her lower lip muffling her desperate cries. Rubbing small circles on his right hip, she knew throwing her leg over his inured one was not an option. Attempting to maneuver onto her stomach, House moved his right hand, which had been fully enjoying her breast, clenching his finger pads into her hip to keep her in place. His grip pulled their bodies closer together causing her to gasp. She forcefully panted, "God, you're a bastard."

"I thought my new pet name was ass," he started to circle his hips counterclockwise while urging her to move her hips clockwise, "but I could learn to live with being God."

"Shut up and move faster!" she yelled rocking her hips like he wanted, "Oh god." Cuddy didn't try to cover a line of curses that exploded from her mouth as she felt House smirking against her neck again.

_Past_

"Have you considered where you want to go for your residency?" Cuddy asked over a breakfast of cereal and coffee one morning. She noticed that his facial features and eyes flashed with surprise before he stared down into his cereal bowl. He ignored her question reading the medical journal that was open on his left. Cuddy sighed studying the pathology book on her right.

_Present_

"You're supposed to be in the clinic," Cuddy stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I figured out a better way to use my enormous talent," House smirked zeroing in on her chest.

"I'm sure," Cuddy raised an arched brow in curiosity.

Putting down his sandwich, he wiped the crumbs from his shirt, "Most coma patients that recover from long term vegetative states have some form of familiar human contact everyday. If I come and spend a few hours here with coma lady each day, it could greatly enhance her chances of waking up in the future."

"How noble," Cuddy stepped by the patient's bed leaning over House reclining form, "I'm sure your presence has nothing to do with the food delivery or 32' plasma HDTV with cable, which is all being charged to the unconscious woman."

"Are you wearing the black lace bra with the little black tie in the front?" he squinted down the front of her shirt trying to discern her linguire choice for the day, "You know the one with the matching panties with black bows down the front and see-through lace." His eyes had drifted from the gap near the top of her shirt to judge what lay below the grey wool skirt.

"Clinic now," Cuddy said pointing a finger to the door.

House stood and invaded Cuddy's personal space. Drilling into her eyes, his hand caressed the fabric of her skirt from her hip to the top of her bum, "You know we can have more fun in here than in the clinic with all the snot and crotch burn."

"Not in front of the patients," Cuddy's eyes drilled right back into his, "their families, friends, any staff, or helper animals."

"The woman is in a coma. I don't think she'll tell on us. Besides, you're the mommy," he moved his hand to the small of her back.

"What happened to your coma guy?" she asked looking at the female patient.

"The television in his room hasn't been upgraded to a plasma yet," House murmured inhaling the lingering scent around her neck.

"So, you admit that you're purposely slacking off clinic to watch television," she smiled superiorly as she caught him in the lie.

He sighed resting his forehead against hers, "Isn't this better than the annoying crowded clinic?" His hand was glided softly over her back causing her to shiver a bit.

Cuddy was quiet for a moment. Then, she changed tactics, "The clinic rooms have locks and have fewer or no windows."

"Seriously?" House asked but didn't ask the question in disbelief.

"House, you've been in the clinic. You know I'm right," she stated with a sly grin before walking out of the room. House followed her with a new mission to fill his clinic hours.


	5. Property of Greg House and Rachel Cuddy

**Chapt**er 5: Property of Greg House (originally) and Rachel Cuddy (eventually)

_Past_

"We should go out," Cuddy said out of the blue. She was perched on a barstool opposite House in his apartment. Absorbed in a medical journal or texts, they sprawled their books all over the counter to study. After three hours of non-stop biochemistry, she desperately wanted to escape the confines of his liar.

"Why?" he halfheartedly engaged her.

"Because we never go out and do anything. It would be nice to actually be around other people on occasion," she added a slight whine to her tone.

"You sound like a girl," he just plainly whined.

"I am a girl, you idiot," she grimaced throwing her pencil down in disgust.

"I'm your tutor hence the books and the tutelage," he raised his eyes to met hers.

"Is that what our relationship is? Tutor and student?" Cuddy pressed an issue that they had been skirting around for weeks now.

"Of course," House smirked recalling their version of study sessions and the lack of clothing usually involved.

"Well, you don't seem to have the time to help me study right now. I'll stop wasting your precious genius and leave," Cuddy began stuffing her books and supplies into a leather book bag.

House rested his hand on hers stopping her frenzied packing. "You don't have to go," he whispered.

"Why should I stay?" she whispered back to him.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully, "I like you being here."

"Me, too," she agreed looking down to the floor. Suddenly, she looked up at him with a brilliant smile on her face. She suggested in a sultry tone, "If we go out, I can wear that black leather skirt."

"Everyone will get a flash of granny's white cotton glories when you bend over," he teased playing with the waistband of her conservative underwear.

"I don't have to bend over necessarily," she challenged.

"You will if we go play pool," he flashed a cheeky grin.

"Then, I just have to without panties, I guess," she grinned in return.

"Seriously?" House squeaked in uncharacteristically high tone. Cuddy laughed elatedly at his boyish hopeful disbelief.

_Present_

House pouted when he took in the sight that greeted him at the front door of the Cuddy residence. Cuddy was bouncing Rachel, who was covered in congealed green goo, on her right hip. Similar congealed green goo had hardened in Cuddy's bangs, right cheek, and left forearm. The usual neat freak was completely not phased by the mashed peas that covered her daughter or self. "Come in, House. The remote is on the coffee table in the living room. I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up the messy one here," Cuddy bounced a giggling child as she left House standing in the doorway.

He stood in silence for a moment taking in the introduction. After a moment, he bypassed the living room and followed Cuddy into the kitchen. The antique oak highchair looked like a victim of Slimer. Rachel and Cuddy were at the kitchen sink, which was filled with water and bubbles, doing the evening ritual of bathing. House sat silently watching as mother and daughter laughed over floating bubbles and hide-n-seek games. Eventually, Cuddy wrapped a sparkling baby in yellow fuzzy cotton decorated with ducks. Once Rachel was ready for her nightly journey with the sandman, Cuddy acknowledged his presence. "I called my cable provider this week. There are plenty programs with truck smashing, soap operas, and idiots playing with power tools. Probably enough to satisfy even you," she told him before heading down the hall with Rachel.

Cuddy went to the nursery retrieving a bouncing chair. When she entered her bedroom, she found House stretched out on the right side of the bed with his arms tucked back behind his head. His cane was propped up against the nightstand, and his shoes were neatly lined up on the floor by the end of the bed. The leather jacket and bag that he carried everyday were resting on the chair in the corner of her room. Cuddy placed the bouncy seat on the left side of her bed and secured the belt around Rachel. She turned on the vibrating mechanism before leveling a challenging look at House. "T.V. is in the living room," she motioned her head in the direction of her bedroom door.

"You forgot the adult channels," House finally spoke up with a wicked smile.

"The access code to remove the child block is 0925," she sighed crossing her arms over her chest.

"The day we met," he recalled with a larger grin.

"The numbers of my house," Cuddy fired back raising her right brow into a sharp arch.

"That's a dumb code. The parasite will break it by the time she can count," he shot a glanced at the bouncing wonder that was trying to shove her foot in her mouth.

"I'll worry about it when she can count," Cuddy answered annoyed. After a moment of staring him down, she added, "You're going to teach her how to count just to prove your point, aren't you?"

"Could help pass the time when you're not naked," House shifted his gaze from child to mother. Cuddy shook her head hiding the smile at his unspoken commitment.

"Are you going to get naked, or should I start counting with the kid?" House asked growing frustrated at her lack of movement.

"House, I'm not doing that in front of her, and no amount of begging is going to change that," Cuddy remained glued to her spot with arms still crossed.

"Great," he mouthed off aggravated, "Why don't you turn in your power suits for a penguin suit right now?"

"You are not going to browbeat me into letting you grope me in front of my child," she hissed with controlled anger.

"You came in here to take a shower. If small-fry gets to watch the strip show, then so do I," he declared crossing his own arms and pouting with a glare.

Cuddy released a hardy laugh at his childish behavior. She approached him and leaned over to place a chaste kiss on top of his protruding lower lip. "Fine. You can stay, but you can only watch. No touching," she ordered pulling away from him.

She began to unbutton her blouse as if it were any regular day. Pulling the shirt off, she turned to place it on the end of the bed. On the bed, Rachel was staring at her chewing on her fingers gargling in random syllables. House had his head slightly tilted to the right with his mouth hanging open a bit. Rolling her eyes, she dropped her skirt and threw it in his face.

"The twins are spectacular, and the ass is as rotund as ever. But your technique is pathetic. Maybe next week we can get Wilson to babysit while we take in a few professional ladies of erotic dance," he criticized her lack of enthusiasm in disrobing.

"No stripteases in front of Rachel," she added to the rules of sex-capades.  
"How else will she learn?" House joked.

"House!" Cuddy growled a little.

"I'll agree on one condition," he stated with the wicked grin.

"What?" Cuddy was growing tired of their game.

"We pick up a Catholic school girl uniform on the way home from the club next week," he leered imaging her in the attire of a favorite fantasy. Cuddy rolled her eyes again and headed into the shower.

_Past_

Cuddy rolled her eyes standing up straight after messing up her shot. In a low tone, she hissed at House, "Stop touching my ass."

"You're not wearing any underwear," House proclaimed loud enough for the people around them to hear.

"Would you shut up?" she slugged him in the shoulder.

"You're not wearing any underwear," he repeated with a wiry grin.

"I heard you the first ten times. Believe it or not but I can feel difference between when I do and do not have underwear on my body," she whispered flippantly.

"Ooohhh . . . that's so hot," House groaned looking to the sky in silent thanks.

"I'm getting a drink," she put down her pool cue turning towards the bar.

"I'll take a beer," he requested smacking her ass as she slid by him. He smirked when she leveled a mean glare at him.

"Too bad. I'm getting Tequila," she told him before retreating to the bar.

_Present_

House eyed the mass beside suspiciously. The rosy cheek bundle gurgling next to him encompassed everything he envied, feared, and hated in life. Now, he was expected to play nice. He tried negotiating with the enemy, "Okay, Spawn, here's the deal. You don't like me. I don't like you. You can have Cuddy up to bedtime. After that, she's mine, and under absolutely no circumstances will there be cock-blocking."

Rachel responded with a high squeaky giggle and waving her arms in his direction. He backed away slightly, "So, we have a deal." He grabbed a tiny fist to shake on the deal. Instead, he got his hand around her wrist and smiled the instant he felt the powerful pulse. A second later, Rachel wrapped her fist around his finger, which caused House to analyze youth. When his gaze met hers, a joyous laugh came from the happy girl.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," he admitted growing increasingly charmed with the baby. He looked away when he heard a loud thump from the bathroom. Rachel immediately began to whimper.

"This falls under the cock-blocking rule," he argued with the infant, who grew fussier.

"What is it about you Cuddys and the need to drive me crazy?" he accused getting off the bed to retrieve his bag. Digging around inside, he pulled out some reading material. He adjusted back onto the bed and gave bedtime stories the old rudimentary try.

_Past_

Cuddy returned from the bar toting two shots glasses and a bottle of tequila. House was wearing a cocky smile doubting her ability to hold her liquor. Giving him a sweet smile, Cuddy suggested a game, "For every shot you miss, you take a shot."

"You'll be passed out within the hour," he laughed off her suggestion.

"We'll see," she racked the balls and prepped the first two shots.

"To your panties," House smirked clanging his shot to hers before jugging it down the gullet.

"To having your ass handed to you," Cuddy grinned before throwing back her own shot.

Two hours and fifteen shots later, Cuddy stood on top of his feet with her arms laced around his neck. She had striped off her heels after winning the second round of pool. House was currently fixated on her face as he slowly swayed in perfect time to the beat. His sneaky hands caught her attention.

She chided with a flirty giggle, "Your hands are on my ass, again."

"I declare this ass in the name of House and Little House," he whispered as he groped her behind for good measure. Cuddy dug her teeth into her bottom lip to suppress a grin.

_Present_

Cuddy could not quite fathom the sight before her. Dr. Gregory House was sitting on her bed with her child in his arms reading a medical journal aloud. At least, she assumed it was a medical journal; it usually was. He certainly still spoke Japanese well.

His voice was gentle and low as he read the article quietly. Rachel lay nestled into his chest breathing deeply. When House finished the passage, he looked up to confirm if Cuddy had finished her shower. He moaned deep in his throat while his eyes boggled at the image of Cuddy in her bathroom doorway, the image of Cuddy wearing the black bra and panties with the ties down the front.

Once she was satisfied that House had gotten an eye full, she tied her robe shut. Walking to the bed, she scooped Rachel up from him. She praised with simple words, "You were good with her."

"Squirt and I have an understanding," he responded.

"Really?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yup. Now go put her down, so you can put me down," he played with tie on her robe. She shook her head disregarding his statement and headed towards the nursery.

_Past_

She woke up with a throbbing headache and lack of memories about what happened after they left the bar. Cuddy rolled off her bed and landed on the floor on her stomach. Pulling herself onto her feet, she made her way to the communal bathroom that she shared with a couple suitemates.

In the bathroom, she filled the sink with cold water and wiped away the grit of last night. She striped off the black skirt and pink top that she had fallen asleep in. As she climbed into a comforting warm shower, a cry of horror escaped her lips. The cry was quickly followed by a mumbled death threat. She swore to the empty air, "I'll kill him. I swear to God that I'll kill him."

Perched on her tippy toes in front of the mirror, she took in the imprint left on her ass. It claimed that she was the 'property of Dr. Greg House'. Her other butt cheek was claimed in the name of Little House. She grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up with some soap and water. After trying to scrub off the property stamp, she quickly realized that it was not coming off any time soon. That bastard had marked her with permanent ink. _He was going to die come hell or high water._

_A/N: Next section:_

_Past-If you piss off Cuddy, she'd stick ya wear it hurts._

_Present-Panty Obsession taken to extremes ;)_


	6. The Case of the Stolen Panties

This is where you start if you have been following the story. The past events are written to give reason to House's stunt in _Insensitive. _Enjoy and send me word if you enjoy or not.

**The Case of the Stolen Panties**

_Present_

Cuddy walked back into her bedroom and ignored the man on her bed. House had sat up from his reclining position and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He was leaning back expecting her to attack him with her usual fervor when she returned to the bedroom. He didn't like it when she strolled right past him and began to dig around in her dresser.

"What's the holdup, woman? The Squirt is no where in sight. Get over here and get to work," he commanded motioning to his lap with his right hand.

"Get to work?" Cuddy questioned his choice of words.

"I assume Mistress Cuddy is taking charge tonight," House smirked as the idea created a disturbing number of sexual fantasies in his mind.

"Shut up and stay where you are," Cuddy responded rolling her eyes at his sick thoughts.

"Yes, Mistress," he dropped his tone an octave following her movements as she walked into the bathroom.

_Past_

House pounded on her door with his fist persistently until he heard the lock catch. She had disappeared. For seven days, he had not seen or heard even a whisper of her. After the third night of restless slumber, he had put himself to sleep with the aid of the bottle. He was also thoroughly pissed that he had to take care of his morning wood in the shower. Cuddy was also particularly frisky in the morning. The worst part was despite her physical absence in his shower that she had become the premiere headliner of his fantasies. Damn woman had gotten her claws into him.

Cuddy opened the door with a smile that lit up her face. It dropped the instance that she realized House was standing at her door. "What do you want?" she growled at him.

"Claiming my property," he sneered, "I dimly recall writing my name on it."

"I promise that nothing here has your name written on it," Cuddy scowled.

"How many bottles of acetone did it take to get that permanent marker off your ass," his sneer turned into a smirk visualizing her scrubbing her ass for hours trying to erase his name.

"What do you want, House?" she snarled growing increasing irritated by his presence.

"Where have you been?" he lowered the volume of his voice so only she could hear.

"Living my life," she shot him a glare. Suddenly, her face brightened when she looked at something behind him. "Hello, Michael. I just need to grab my coat," she greeted the blonde Adonis approaching her apartment door.

House scrutinized her choice in dates and extending his hand to the stranger, "Hi. Greg House. I'm Lisa's tutor."

"Hi. Michael Faraday. I'm Lisa's date," the man said with a sense of superiority in his voice.

"Where are you taking her tonight?" he asked in a kind conversational tone.

"Dinner and a movie," Michael answered.

"Try Riley's on 5th. She loves their pasta," House winked at his suggestion.

"Thanks," Michael tried to be more pleasant when he thought House was aiding in his attempt to score that evening.

"Have a good time," House waved his good-bye before Cuddy reappeared at the door.

_Present_

When Cuddy emerged from the bathroom, she was still covered from neck to ankle in a dark silk robe. House immediately began to search her room for scissors. The robe needed a few enticing alterations. Too comfortable to move from his spot on the bed, he whined, "You're still not naked."

Ignoring his voice completely, she glided across the room. Climbing up onto the bed, Cuddy kneeled beside him on the left side of the bed. She recalled a challenge from a little over a year ago, "Remember when you manipulated your fellows into stealing my underwear to secure a job."

House was grinning like a jackass halfway through her statement. He replied, "I always remember the days you go without panties. I actually respected Malcolm Mormon for a few hours."

"Maybe I should give panties to all your fellows," Cuddy smiled at his personal priorities.

"All I heard was that you wanted to have 13 take off your panties," House started undoing the knot of her robe. He groaned in appreciation when he saw that she changed from her black bra to a red one.

"13 can't have my panties," she stated matter of fact.

"You're supposed to say that 13 meets you in your office every Thursday to play find the boss's panties," he talks her through how he envisions this fantasy, "Miraculously she always finds them hiding under your skirt."

"But I'm not wearing any," she smiles coyly, "The panties that match this bra mysteriously went missing after I lent them to Cole last year. No one seems to know where they went," House analyzed her expression and body language for a moment. Then, he reached his hand down to confirm her claim. He silently mouthed thank you towards the ceiling before pulling open Cuddy's robe.

Cuddy slipped off her robe before zeroing in on House's jeans. He was distracted tracing the lace edges of her bra. When his fingers reached the backclip, he released the eyelets and pulled it off her shoulders. Once her bra was safely on the other side of the room, he pulled on her upper arms until she was straddling him. "I like this view so much better," he murmured as her chest settled within range of his tongue.

Cuddy smiled for a moment at how easy he was trapped, "You're way behind me."

"All you need is to shake hands with Little House," he slid his hands up and down her back to the crown of her butt in slow, smooth strokes.

"Maybe I want to play with more than just him," she reached in through the hole of his boxers cupping him.

"You win! You win!" he hissed lifting hips, so she could pull his pants down. While Cuddy worked the lower part, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. After Cuddy seductively crawled back up his body, he latched onto her hips and settled her down right on the money spot. With three swift back and forth rocks of her hips, he felt himself sink in the moist depths of Cuddy.

"God! I swear this thing is equipped with radar. I've never seen a woman lock and load as fast as you," he dug his fingers into her ass urging her to move down faster.

"It's all that administrator talent I developed over the years," she quipped leaning over to lay wet kisses along his shoulders and pectorals as her hips worked in tight circles.

"I knew it! You've …ooohhh fuck," his insult was cut off by a strong internal clench from Cuddy.

"Like that?" she teased. She sat up with the same smile she always wore when House accidently complimented her. Before he could answer, she repeated the maneuver. House groaned sinking down into the pillows absolutely lost in pleasure. When she was certain that he was beyond rational thinking, she raised her hips higher sinking back down slowly. His hands gripped the sheets tightly. She rested her hands on his chest rocking forward. At this moment, Cuddy whispered the question, "House, do you know what happened to those red panties?"

House unclenched the sheets gliding his hands over her thighs until they reached her hips. Once he had a firm hold on her hips, he thrust up pulling her down simultaneously. When he saw her head fall back to cry out a deliciously low-toned moan, he responded, "Foreman might have mentioned seeing them stuffed into back of 13's locker."

"Get over it, House. I'm not doing any of the sick things you think up with Dr. Hadley, and stop stealing my underwear," she matched the new pace.

"Don't know…what you're talking about. Though, Chase was a little creepied out when Cameron…circle to the left…wore the same red lace panties for a week when you went on maternity leave," he began to guide her movements trying to put pressure on her 'sweet spot'.

"So, you …right there…started that rumor," she accused pulling his shoulders till he sat upright. Moving his hands from her hips to her butt, he yanked her down holding her tightly against him. Once Cuddy adjusted to his grinding rhythm, he buried his head in her breasts. House teased her by skimming the top swell of her breasts with the tip of his tongue. Growing annoyed by his teasing, she guided his head until his mouth finally enveloped her nipple. "Ooohhhh," she purred, "Finally, you found a good use for that mouth of yours."

When House tried to pull away to respond to her sarcasm, she glided his mouth to her other breast. He didn't stop to protest. Cuddy rewarded his control by clenching around him and circling her hips faster. After half a dozen rides around him, House pulled his head back panting heavily on her chest. Resting his forehead on her collarbone, he told her quite breathless, "You're killing me here."

"Personally, I'm enjoying it," she rolled her head back holding his head against her chest.

"Really?" he traced the bottom curve of her breast with his thumb drawing it down her side until he reached her 'fun button'.

"Oh God!" Cuddy arched her back sitting up higher on her knees, "That's cheating."

"Control freak," he egged her on, "Now move, Woman." He smacked her bottom urging her to go wild.

She gripped the hair on the back of his head and pulled on it till she could look in his eyes. Before she let his head go, she said," You're an ass."

He smiled into her chest as she started to ride him faster. When he felt the inevitable vise grip of her orgasm, he pulled her down on himself. As he let go, he whispered, "God, Lisa."

_Past_

"Riley's. How nice," Cuddy replied with a grimacing smile.

"I heard it was your favorite," Michael winked at her, pleased by her smile.

"Is that right?" she asked wondering what idiot told him that she liked this place. The sewer tunnels below the restaurant would be more appetizing than the food in this place. Looking around the place, she prayed that the rat rumor proved false. She followed the hostess as she led them to an available table. During her surveillance, she eyed the bar and found her idiot. House was perched on a stool drinking a beer and apparently charming a redhead.

_Present_

"God, I love it when you're on top," House panted as Cuddy settled down onto her heels trying to catch her breath.

"Me, too," she grinned swinging her leg off him till she kneeled on his left side. Her smile grew wider when she wiped away some sweat from his brow.

When their eyes connected, House immediately scrutinized her look. He asked, "Why are you so proud?"

"You called me Lisa," she kissed his cheek softly. She began to plant kisses from his cheek to his ear. After tracing the outline of his ear with the tip of her tongue, she whispered, "You never call me Lisa."

He pushed her down onto her back before she had a chance to gaze on his face. A second later, his face was buried in her neck suckling on the soft skin there. He felt her fingers delicately brush the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and the ridges of his spine. Once she hummed her enjoyment of his gentle suckling, he sunk his teeth in the junction of her shoulder and neck causing her to gasp. Satisfied that she was on her toes, he responded, "Don't read too much into it. I don't think straight when you force your funbags in my face."

Cuddy withdrew slightly appalled, "I did not! It's amazing that you don't walk into the wall at the hospital considering how you stare at them."

"Ignore her. I know that you would never let anything happen to me," he spoke to her chest before lavishing wet kisses over both.

"You are a sick man," she responded arching her right eyebrow.

"A sick man that had ten inches buried inside of you two minutes ago," House looked up with a depraved smirk on his face.

"Ten inches?" Cuddy asked with a depraved smirk of her own.

"Yes," he spoke confidently diving down to devour a nipple.

"Oh . . .yes," Cuddy responded to his actions digging her fingers into the strong build of his shoulders.

"I knew you agreed," he smiled nuzzling the space between her breasts with his stubble.

"Asshole," she moved his head to her neglected breast.

"Administrator whore," he mouthed before enjoying the pert nipple underneath him.

"Ego-manic," she fired back resting her chin on her chest, so they could see each other.

"Old maid," he licked the lower curve of her breast.

"Who has to pay to get laid?" she inquired opening her legs wide, so House could settle between them.

"Who just opened their legs for me?" he began to place open mouth kisses down her abdomen.

"Panty stealer," she groaned as he sucked the skin just below her belly button.

"Control freak," he traced a line along her skin where her panties should have been, "Open your legs wider."

"You already said that," she lifted her legs to rest them on his shoulders.

"While I'm down here, do you want me to remove the stick stuck up your ass?" he replied before swirling his tongue on her fun button.

"God, I hate your mouth," she gasped. House responded by traces the outline of her squish mitten. After sucking in a couple breaths, Cuddy groaned, "Asshole."

House smirked looking up, "You already said that."

"Shut up and get to work," Cuddy threaded her hand into his hair insisting he return to his earlier musings.

"Yes, mistress," he replied before jumping in head first.

_Past_

"Do you have any recommendations?" Michael asked perusing his menu, "Is the pasta any good?"

"Sure, it's all delicious," she lied with a fake smile, "I think I'm just going to have a salad tonight."

"Lisa, you should have whatever you want. This is my treat," he gave her a beaming smile.

"Thank you. That's very refreshing . . . I mean generous. I really do enjoy the salads," she reassured him.

"Whatever you want," he reached across the table to squeeze her hand, "Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight."

"Three times," she squeezed his hand in return.

"Imagine how she looks naked," a voice said loudly from behind her.

_Present_

House's eyes flickered open. An annoying buzzing noise was coming from the floor. Seeing his pants dance, he reached over to dig out his cell. He flipped it open growling softly, "What?"

"Good morning to you, too. We have a case," Foreman replied not sounding too thrilled about the early morning as well.

"Read the symptoms, so I can diagnose now. Tomorrow, tell me the idiot that referred the patient, so I can torture them," he complained especially when he felt Cuddy reaching for him.

"The idiot was Cameron. When you see this guy, you'll understand why she called. Or, do you want me to call Cuddy?" he threatened.

"Tell Blondie to make coffee," he shut the phone before Foreman could protest. He turned onto his back to observe the sleeping woman lying behind him. Cuddy had thrown an arm across his waist with her body cuddled into his back. He lifted her arm sliding a pillow underneath it. She sighed snuggled into the soft surface and nestled her leg into the space that he was vacating. When she moaned a moment later, he seriously considered calling Foreman back and telling him to "Go to hell". He damned his own curiosity as he left her warm naked body.

_Past_

"Excuse me," Michael shot an outraged look at the man standing beside his date.

"Come on, man," House leered at the tight white dress that Cuddy had chosen to wear for the evening, "She has to have one hell of a body to dress like that. It doesn't exactly take a lot to image what's beneath it."

"Listen, you asshole, don't . . ." Michael rose to defend her honor.

"Michael, please ignore him," Cuddy stood between the two, "He's . . . just being protective. He doesn't want some sex-crazed deviant advantage of me."

"What exactly is your relationship with this guy? I thought he was your tutor," Michael asked in a softer tone closer to her ear.

"We're friends," she replied excitedly trying to hide whatever House's true intent was.

"Yeah, we're friends," House wrapped his arm around her, "This is Heather." He motioned towards the busty co-ed, who was carrying a bottle of wine. "Let's do what friends and eat together," he smiled wickedly at Cuddy stealing the seat next to her.

_Present_

She awoke to the shrill sound of her alarm. There was hour before Rachel woke up demanding breakfast. After she shut off the alarm, she realized something was missing. On the pillow next to hers, a note was waiting with 'case' scribbled across it. Smiling brightly, she stretched and rolled off bed. Unashamedly, she strutted into her shower.

After her shower, she wrapped her navy robe around her body and the towel around her head. Stepping over to her dresser, she opened the top drawer. It took a moment to register, but finally she realized the drawer was completely empty. She started ripping open every drawer on her dresser. It was pointless. Every single pair of underwear that she owned was gone.

_Past_

"So, Michael Faraday. I assume you're studying electrical engineering. Keep up the family name," House asked watching all the nuances of the young man.

"Family name?" he looked at House confused, "No. My family is a mix of lawyers, publishers, writers, and teachers. My dad runs his own shipping business back in Ohio. Personally, I'm studying business management."

"Good ole' boy, huh? Plan on taking over the family business one day," House continued not allowing anyone to get a word into the conversation.

"No, I plan to hit Wall Street. You know work my way up in a firm. Eventually, be in the big money," he answered.

"How noble. You must love _Wall Street_," House mocked.

"Best movie ever! Total inspiration for me," Michael spoke enthusiastically enraptured by the turn in conversation, "What about you? What do you plan to do once you're out of here?"

"Medicine," he answered keeping his responses short.

"Doctor?" Michael asked. House confirmed with a nod. He added, "Another great way to make money."

"Or help people," Cuddy joined the discussion.

"Doctors just say that because they want people to glorify their field. They are afraid to be honest about wanting to make money. Probably don't want to loose the high and mighty worship they receive for saving people," Michael highlighted the last two words with air quotes.

"Really?" House asked feigning deep interest in Michael's position.

"Absolutely. At least, I don't go around pretending that I have a higher purpose. Be honest with people. If you want to make money, I say go for it. Just don't feed me a line a mile long about noble intentions," he continued to dig his own hole without knowing it.

"You know that's a very interesting position. I'm sure Cuddy has some interesting thoughts as well since she is going to medical school next year," House smiled in her direction knowing she was furious at him and the idiot across from her. From there, the conversation degraded until Cuddy stormed out angered by the one-sided views of her date. House followed claiming he would make sure she got home safety. Before Michael could make any attempt to be a gentleman, he was stopped by the redhead next to him and an unpaid check.

_Present_

Chase spotted Cameron stretching her neck in House's conference room as she waited for a fresh pot of coffee to finish brewing. He quietly slipped in and walked up behind her. Once he stood right behind her, he wrapped his arms around her. She jumped turning her head to see who sneaked up behind her. She chided him in an exhausted voice, "You scared me."

"Sorry. I just wanted to find out when you would be done," he ran his lips over her ear as he spoke.

"I don't know. The guy had a seizure on one of the medications. I had to talk down his wife. Since then, she wouldn't let House's team treat until I explain every detail about the treatment to her," she explained rubbing his arms that held her.

"I wish that you would have waited to put these in my locker," he held a pair of pink panties on his finger in front of her, "I can't stop thinking about getting you home since I found them. Maybe we should go see if the sleep lab is free."

Cameron examined the panties for a moment while Chase started to kiss her neck, "Chase, these aren't mine."

Chase stopped and looked up in shock. He inquired, "If their not yours, whose are they?"

"I have no idea," Cameron smiled, "This is kind of extreme for a secret admirer."

They both turned their heads towards the door as 13, Taub, Kutner, and Foreman walked into the conference room. 13 was holding a pair of red panties with a pen. She tossed them onto the conference table looking disgusted. Chase and Cameron looked at each other for a moment before Cameron dropped the pink pair of panties in her possession onto the table. All six fellows, former and current, simultaneously said, "House."

_Past_

"Why are you doing this? You're just my _tutor. _ As if, I actually ever needed one," Cuddy said. Her voice laced with sarcasm and judgment as she blocked the entrance to her dorm.

"Perhaps, I should remind you why my method was superior," House smirked. His voice riddled with arrogance and a hint of arousal as he towered over her with his hands resting on the door frame.

"Go away, House. Your services are no longer required," she sneered in the dangerous tone.

"You were just using me for my body," he raised his voice, so passersby could overhear them.

"Yes, House. I used you, but now I find your services inadequate. So, you never need to come here again," she smirked evilly.

"You're lying," he grinned, "You want me."

"You are nothing but a self-involved, self-serving ass that has no regard for anyone," she yelled lifting up on her toes to deliver the insult at eye level.

"God, you are even sexier when you're all riled up," he leaned in closer. His breath added warmth to her already flushed skin.

"House, go away. Never come back," she stressed each word carefully, as though, she was instructing a child.

"No," he replied sternly securing a gentle, yet, firm grasp on her arm.

Without breaking their glaze, she asked, "Why?"

"We should do this inside," he insisted.

"Just tell me," she growled.

"You and the crowd?" he gave a questioning expression.

After a confused moment, she looked around them. A crowd had gathered in the hall to watch them face-off against the other. Her cheeks blazed red with embarrassment when she noticed the attention they were receiving. She grabbed his arm pulling him inside.

_Present_

Cuddy stormed to House's office ready to assign him to jobs that would make clinic duty seem pleasant. She peered into his office, which was empty. Searching the conference room, there was no one to be found, but the brightly colored thongs were impossible to miss. Once she successfully retrieved the evidence, she hurried to his number one hiding place.

Wilson didn't jump when his door banged open. He continued to pour over a chart finishing the sentence he was reading. The door slamming shut did grab his attention. One glance at the irate Cuddy standing in his office made his head ache.

"Wilson, where is he?" she asked taking in deep breaths.

"Lisa, are you okay? You look …" he trailed off looking for the right word.

"Upset," she said.

"Murderous, actually," he replied.

"He crossed a line this time," she nearly shouted.

"I guess these are yours," he sighed pulling open the bottom drawer of his desk, which was overflowing with her panties.

"That I could forgive. He had no right pulling our personal lives into our professional," she hissed.

"The panties that 13 found in her locker and Chase found in his are yours, too," Wilson asked with obvious pain in his voice, "Chase and Foreman were in here earlier. They think that House planted them. They also think he stole them from some hooker.

"That doesn't make it okay," she sighed.

"Let me know when the funeral is," he threw the set of thongs that she had tossed on the desk onto the stack.

_Past_

Once the door was locked, she turned around with her back against the door. Their stances had been the same on the opposite side of the door. After a few beats of silence, she prompted, "You won't leave because…"

"I want to kiss you," he leaned in closer.

"Dream on," she responded backing into the door, "I won't sleep with you."

"I never said that I wanted to sleep with you. I said I want to kiss you," he locked his eyes with hers.

"I don't understand," she whispered unsure.

"Did you ever think you were right? Maybe I like you, Cuddy" he pressed his lips to hers.

_Present_

House pulled his coat closer to his body to keep out the early spring chill. He adjusted his body cursing the moron that invented lawnchairs. Cuddy still hadn't found him. She was either going to kill him on sight or claim defeat when she found him. The one thing that he knew for sure was that conversation was not going to be pleasant. His reverie was broken by the slam of a door. _Yeah, she was pissed. _

"How could you?" she snarling stomping over to him, "I know that I shouldn't be surprised, but I honestly thought you would never do this!"

"No, you thought that I would never do it to you," he responded quietly refusing to look at her. His gaze was locked on the passing traffic on the walk below.

"Yes!" she screamed forcing him to face her, "I never thought you would betray my trust! My personal life does not come to the hospital. I pour enough of myself into this damn place. I just want some small part of my life not to be consumed by it. But, no! You can't give me that some semblance of peace."

"Maybe, you don't know me as well as you think," he replied looking away. They both stood in front of each other. Both had their eyes focused on the ground under their feet.

After several minutes of silence, House risked a look at Cuddy asking, "Do I get letter of reference?"

"You're not fired. I'm sure the board would be thrilled, but your fellows wouldn't stop digging into your removal without a straight answer. Right now, Wilson, you, and I are the only three that know about this. _We will be the only ones to ever know_. From now on, you will not come to my home. Our only relationship is as employer and employee," Cuddy answered desperately trying to control the tremors in her voice. She turned and headed to the door. She took one last look at him, "The truth is I know too well. Goodbye, Greg."

"Goodbye, Lisa," he spoke to the air after the door slammed shut.

_Past_

Cuddy pushed House through her door nipping feverishly at his lips. She had stripped him of his leather jacket and Pink Floyd t-shirt. He was watching her trying not to trip over his own feet. He noticed that she hadn't lost any piece of clothing yet. Deftly, he reversed their position moving her towards the bed.

Backing her onto the bed, he pulled over coat exposing the white dress. He ran his hands along the edges of her dress tracing her curves. His hands continued to run over her body moving along her back towards the zipper of her dress. When he reached the zipper, Cuddy, who had been lavishing his chest and shoulders with kisses and licks, undid his jeans pushing them down his legs. At instant, he grabbed her hands stilling her rapid movements.

"Slow down," he insisted.

"Take off your pants," Cuddy insisted instead trying to free her hands.

"Take off your dress and get on the bed," House commanded looking into her eyes. She acquiesced tearing off her dress, tights, and bra. She slowly slinked up the bed giving him a seductive look. She spread her legs believing she knew what he intended.

After dropping his pants, he settled between her legs covering her body with his. Cuddy threw her arms around his neck pulling him down for an aggressive kiss. He pulled back glazing into her eyes. Running his hands down her arms, he laced his fingers into hers and drew her arms over her head. Holding her arms down, he stared in her eyes, "Not this time, Speedy. This time, we go slowly."

A/N: I know, I know. I'm supposed to break them up at Michigan, not in the Present. Stay with me. The story isn't over yet.


	7. Red Panties: The Unifying Factor

A/N: Hello, again. Glad you like the new format. I put the Present/Past section in bold so they're easier to see. This chapter is shorter. It's just the fallout from last chapter.

**Red Panties: The Unifying Factor**

_**Present**_

Wilson gently knocked on her office door waiting for a word of admittance. He carried a box that appeared to be full of files. As he stepped into the inner sanctum of Dr. Lisa Cuddy, he stopped briefly to draw the blinds closed. Once the door was closed, he approached the desk that he knew had some hidden meaning in their twisted relationship. He placed the box on one of the chair in front of her desk and took a moment to evaluate his friend's mood.

Cuddy had flashed her eyes up once to identify her visitor. Since then, she just continued to shift through the stacks of paperwork on her desk waiting for him to speak. Wilson decided to start with the business of his visit before prying for details. He pulled the files off the top of the pile and moved the box to rest on her desk. Attempting not to sound too idiotic, Wilson mentally rolled his eyes at the comment, "I brought your panties." House would have killed to be there for this moment.

If looks could kill, the box would have been nothing more than ash the way she looked at it. The moment was so surreal. It was so House. Wilson knew that he would have loved every moment of exquisite frustration and pent-up aggression reflected in her eyes and grimace if the cost had not been so high. This would have played out so much differently if House had just not crossed that line. If House had just stashed them in his office, they would all be gathered together. House would be grinning amused at Wilson's mocked outrage and embarrassment while he gloated Cuddy into a verbal altercation. Cuddy would be ripping into House completely focused only on him. It would have been a nasty prank between friends, but House had to push the limits. His fellows were the breaking point. Unfortunately, the price was Cuddy.

Cuddy stood up from her desk chair and moved around to where Wilson was standing. She picked up the box and shoved it back in his arms. She put a little of her anger into her words, "Give them to House. He seems to have more use for them than I do. Call it a consolation prize. He can have them instead of me. Besides, I don't want to think about where they have been or what he did to them." She grimaced looking down at the panties. The expression on her face instantly changed from outrage to shock when she looked down on the pile. She reached with a shaky hand to pick up a red laced undergarment. When she realized that Wilson was watching her, she dropped it back on the pile. She added, "It would have been nice if they were all mine."

"Lisa, you know him. He's an idiot with no sense of boundary control. Talk to him," Wilson pleaded knowing that neither of his friends would take this end well.

"James, there is nothing to say. You are always the one saying he needs to learn boundaries. Well, he got his lesson. Could you please get these things out of my office?" Cuddy insisted turning back to her work.

"Okay, Cuddy," Wilson said in a cold voice before leaving her office.

_**Past**_

House placed her hands up by the headboard. He unlaced their fingers urging her to grab on the brass ornamentation. She compiled with his wishes. After warning her not to move, he slid off to her right side. Reaching his hand up to her hands, he began to trace the outline of her body.

Starting at her palm, he followed the faint blue color of her veins down her left arm, along the protruding collarbone, and back up her right arm. He went the same path in the opposite direction. When his finger reached her shoulder, he changed direction lining the shape of her neck, jaw line, and back down her neck. His eyes watched for any signs of satisfaction from her body – the whimper of her lower lip, the flutter of her eyelashes, or the shiver of her body. Cuddy kept her eyes on his fingers trying to anticipate what he was doing. House smirked when he felt her elevated heart rate at the pulse point on her neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked curious about his recent self-satisfaction.

"Teaching you how not to always be a control freak and enjoy something," he answered locking his eyes to hers.

"Who made you the master?" Cuddy teased with a smile.

"It was just a matter of time until I had to teach you that I'm always right," he smirked losing eye contact with her as his fingers grazing the upper swell of her breasts. She began to squirm and shift as his finger moved around the circular shape of her left breast. He moved his hand to her stomach to still her movements. When she stopped moving taking in deep breaths, he resumed his path on her breasts. The circles were concentric growing smaller as they grew closer to the center of her breasts. Her body shivered slightly when he reached the highest peak.

His hand fell into the slope between the twin peaks and walked down the outline of each rip. When his fingers reached her stomach, his mouth joined the journey. He felt her fingers in his hair a moment later urging him down farther and faster. He stopped just below her belly button and sucked on the smooth surface. Cuddy involuntarily bucked her hips with a yelp.

"Sensitive?" House leered clearly proud of himself.

"Keep going," Cuddy pulled on his hair.

"Where exactly do you want me to go?" he asked not moving.

"You know where," she growled pulling harder.

"The squish mitten or fun button?" he asked prying her hands from his head. He motioned that she should place them back on the headboard.

After moving her arms back above her head, she squeaked "Squish mitten? Fun button? What are you . . ."

"Squish mitten," he used his tongue to identify the location more specifically. "This is your fun button," he applied hard pressure with his thumb.

"God, yes there!" Cuddy exclaimed not really caring where he started.

"We'll get there," he promised as he began to trace paths down her legs.

"House," Cuddy pleaded lifting her hips off the bed. House continued his lax pace slowly working his way up her right leg. When his hand ventured to the junction between her thigh and hip, he placed both hands on either hip traveling up her abdomen and chest. Soon, his body loomed over hers. He relaxed his body gently on top of her allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. After rubbing against her in a teasing manner, he shifted slightly until he leisurely entered her. Then, he rested all his weight on top of her gliding his hands over her arms to her hands. Pulling her hands from the headboard, they laced their fingers back together resting their hands on the pillow just above her head.

"How do you feel?" he asked remaining still.

"Anxious," she answered as humor sparked in her eyes.

"Tell me," he insisted while desperate arousal flooded his voice.

"Warm . . . it's like a warm tingling all over," she answered dropping her usual façade. He could see the nervous anticipation as she licked her lips but the wondrous delights as her limbs trembled. The motion was slow like a wave lapping at the shoreline. House kept their pace continuous but languid. Their faces were level the whole time. His eyes never wondered far from hers while his lips lightly caressed each crevice of her face and neck. The end was not marked by explosive shouts or mind numbing pleasure. There was just hot panting across their lover's cheek and the warm embrace of joy as every nerve in their bodies felt as if they were sparked with endorphins. It left Cuddy wondering just how much of their connection was spoken through actions instead of words.

_**Present**_

House turned his attention to his front door when it swung open unexpectedly. He knew Wilson was going to approach him at some point during this fiasco. Frankly, he expected him earlier, a lot earlier. His fingers returned to the piano keys as his eyes moved back to the music. Wilson would have to work for his attention.

Strangely, Wilson ignored him. He walked over to the piano and dumped out the contents of the box he carried. A rainbow of panties scattered over the top of the precious grand piano. After glaring at Wilson, House picked up his quiet serenade. Wilson was the only one that he played for these days.

After the demure reaction from House, Wilson walked over to the bottle of scotch on the coffee table pouring at least three fingers worth of the amber spirit. His audible gulp could be heard in all corners of the room. House sneaked a peek at his friend as he threw back the stiff drink in one quick shot. He had to contain a snicker when Wilson gasped for breathes as his throat burned with the alcoholic essence. Wilson had always been more of a martini man than hard liquor guy. Yet, he refilled his glass taking another long sip as House stopped playing to inspect his friend. Satisfied that he had House's attention, he asked, "Did you ever play for Cuddy?"

House immediately sighed, not happy with the question, "No."

Wilson inquired, "Why?"

Not entirely sure of his answer, he responded, "I never really had a chance."

"I think you mean that you never gave her a chance," Wilson countered taking another drink of scotch after delivering his point.

"Slow down there, Jimmy. That's strong stuff," House played an Irish melody always heard over drinks for several generations.

"Being your conscience has grown tiresome," Wilson snapped irksomely.

"No one asked you to be my conscience," House said devoid of emotion.

"If only that was true, House. I get to be your conscience because no one else can," Wilson admitted sadly, "Cuddy is the gatekeeper keeping the insanity at bay."

"No one said she had to do that," House barked angrily.

"No one else can," Wilson repeated with a slight growl.

House grew quiet on his reply. Wilson started to shift through the scattered lingerie on the piano. When he found a red laced pair, he tossed it on the keys between House's hands. His hands stilled on the keys; he picked up the undergarment and rubbed it carefully between his fingers. If Wilson had to guess by the look on his face, it looked like he was lost in a memory, just as Cuddy had been.

"She didn't want these back," House wondered in a questioning tone.

"She rather you kept them. Cuddy wasn't sure if they were still safe to wear after being in your hands," Wilson answered causing House to smirk a bit.

"Always was a clean freak," he replied.

"She was extremely unhappy about that pair you're holding. I can't believe you threw in another woman's underwear in with Cuddy's," Wilson prompted House watching his scotch swirl in his tumbler.

"I guess they aren't the panties of Dr. Lisa Cuddy," House said after a beat.

"Really?" Wilson actually was surprised he had the audacity to do such a thing.

"They belonged to Ms. Lisa Cuddy," House answered in disgust throwing the panties right on top of Wilson's drink.

"What are you talking about, House?" Wilson picked them off his glass looking confused.

"Cuddy was wearing those the day we met," he answered throwing himself back into the music.

"You kept these for twenty-four years!" Wilson spoke overwhelmed by his confession.

"Yes," House said quietly.

"She knew," Wilson stated to himself.

"What?" House looked at him as if he wasn't making sense.

"Cuddy. She saw them. She knew," Wilson recalled, "She looked shocked when she saw them."

"Well, they are 24 year old panties," House deadpanned.


	8. Never Underestimate a Cuddy

**Never Underestimate a Cuddy**

_**Past**_

"You're looking positively proud of yourself," House moved to let Cuddy enter his apartment.

"I received some really good news today," she smirked at him.

"You've been spending too much time around here," he closed the door behind him.

"Why? Because I've mastered your mad scientist smile," she wrapped her arms around his neck lifting herself up on her tippy toes.

"No, all those nice things I've said about you have gone to your head. I guess I just need to increase the amount of insults about your ass," he grinned back brushing his lips against hers.

"You're just afraid that your ego won't fit in this room if you share space with some else," she pecked him on the lips, "Would you just admit that you love my ass already?"

"I will admit that when it stops growing," his grin turned into to his trademark smirk.

"Shut up! I got my MCAT results today. I got a 34!" she beamed proudly, "I thought we could celebrate." She laid kisses down the side of his neck.

"Best idea I've heard all day," he picked her up wrapping her legs around his waist and headed towards the couch.

_**Present**_

"Lisa Cuddy," she answered her phone waiting for the caller to state their business.

"Cuddy, it's Foreman," he informed her of the identity of the caller in a solemn voice.

"What has he done this time?" she asked trying to keep her voice even and steady.

"Lisa," he paused for a moment, "It's Kutner."

"Oh god," Cuddy groaned, "What has _he_ done now?"

"When he didn't show up this morning, Remy and I went to his apartment to make sure he was okay. We found him in his bedroom," he responded in a pained tone.

"What do you mean found him?" she asked growing increasingly worried by his words.

"We called for help, but he had no pulse when we found him," he continued in the same voice that he used to tell family members that their loved one was dying.

"Oh god!" she began to realize what he was saying, "How?"

"The police are still evaluating the scene, but it looks like suicide," he explained, "We have to give statements to the police. We'll return to the hospital once everything is done."

"Okay," she replied still reeling from everything that he had told her, "Please stop by my office when you get back."

"Okay," he said before shutting his phone closed.

Cuddy put the phone back on the receiver. She went through the motions involuntarily unable to get her mind around what she just learned. Her mind automatically went into administrator mode making a mental list of the things she had to do now. Suddenly, she saw House escaping the clinic out the corner of her eye. Emotions hit her hard and fast. She slammed her hand on her desk proclaiming curses to the empty air in her office.

_**Past**_

"You got a letter from John Hopkins," Cuddy tried to initiate House in a conversation about the content of the letter.

"Yup," he replied.

"What did the letter say?" she asked.

"Don't know," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Is it about your residency?" she continued.

"Don't know," he turned up the volume on the television.

"Aren't you curious?" she yelled in his ear.

"I haven't opened it," he yelled back in her ear.

"Fine, I'll do it," she grabbed the envelope off the coffee table and leaped off the couch.

"Cuddy, give it back to me," House commanded with actual conviction in his voice.

"Got to catch me first," she began to circle the couch avoiding his long reach.

"Cuddy, I don't dig through your girly things. Don't touch my man things," he switched directions running around the couch hoping to catch her off guard, "except Little House!"

She pounced away as he fell to the floor in the living room when he tried to jump over the couch. Once she was safely in the kitchen, she ripped open the envelope and feverishly read the contents. When House reached her in the kitchen, he grabbed the letter from her hands glaring down on her. He stepped in close, so his height gave him a domineering edge. Cuddy looked up at him with a triumphant smile on her face.

"That was lowdown and dirty, you know," House sneered trying to contain the nasty comments that were on the tip of his tongue.

"Guess you'll have to punish me then," her smile grew wider.

"What did it say, Cuddy?" he moved in closer to her.

"I think I like the idea of you torturing the information out of me," she teased lowering her lids a little and licking her bottom lip.

"That's even dirtier," he moved his hands to rest on her hips.

"You're so easy," she whispered triumphant again.

"That's if you survive the kinds of torture I have in mind," he nuzzled her ear before using his teeth down her neck.

"I think you'll definitely want me to survive," she kept teasing, "Especially considering that Baltimore and Princeton are only 127 miles apart."

"What are you talking about?" he drew back from her with a curious, searching expression on his face.

"With you at Hopkins for your residency and with me at Princeton for medical school, we could maybe get together once in awhile for some fun," she emphasized her last word with a deep kiss.

"You're going to Princeton," he repeated almost asking.

"Yup," she echoed his earlier reply, "And you're going to Hopkins." House didn't reply, but the evil mad scientist grin appeared.

A/N: Yeah, I know. It's short, but there is major plot development. Okay, so the thing about most of the Cuddy/House past fanfictions that drive me bonkers is the short time they know each other. Most people only give them a year at Michigan. How does House know about the desk from medical school if they only knew each other for a year, especially if she was a undergrad when they met? Personally, I think their relationship goes on a lot longer and has several points of connection. That's where the Past plot is going. As far as the Present sections, the first six chapter took place between the 'Locked In' and 'Simple Explanation' episodes. Obviously, this one Present scene shows Cuddy can't cast away her feelings. I don't know where to pick it up in Season Five. I open to suggestions, but I do intend to follow the general plot of the show. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you thought.


	9. Lost in a House

**Lost in a House**

**Present**

She whispered softly in Rachel's ear pointing out Chase and Cameron excitedly as they exchanged vows. It felt like an odd scene to watch after escorting House into the safety of Wilson's hands. Wilson took over without question promising that House and he had already worked out a plan to deal with whatever was happening in his head. They were out the door before she could get a clear answer on what happened, but she knew that it was connected to the Vicodin somehow. There was a pearl of hope that this meant that he was finally getting help for his addiction.

Here she was with her daughter and a plastered smile. It was truly wonderful to see them wed especially when she saw her history being repeated. She really thought that Cameron would end up as she had. Yet, Chase proved to be different. Apparently, Chase was not House. Cameron would not be disappointed like she was. Her thoughts kept coming back to what he asked. He wanted to move in together after dancing around each other all year. Why would he ask that? She would have to corner Wilson and find out.

**Past**

House strolled into Cuddy's dormitory hauling a pizza and beer with him. The semester was over, and he was determined to celebrate properly. This amounted to food, booze, and a whole lot of naked Cuddy. After she let him in, she locked herself away in the bathroom. She claimed that she didn't want him touching her while she was all sweaty from running. He complied only because the girl had a nasty backhand on and off the tennis court.

He settled onto the couch and started on his first beer failing to contain his mental images of naked wet Cuddy. Turning on the television, he hoped that he could find something to distract his attention. While he was digging for the remote on the coffee table, he came across her open mail. Peeking over the couch to make sure the shower was still running, he shuffled through the envelopes looking for something interesting. When he found her grades for the semester, he smiled seeing one A after the other. His eyes grew wide when he realized something was missing. She didn't have a grade for the endocrinology class that they took together. If she wasn't in the class, why did she show up everyday? Maybe, she audited it. But why?

**Present**

Wilson picked up his office phone on the third ring without losing his place in the patient chart that he was reviewing. He answered in his perfected professional doctor voice, "Dr. James Wilson, Oncology."

"God even your phone voice screams I will save you," House said pitching his voice high and sarcastic for the last four words.

"Good to talk to you, too," Wilson responded with the same amount of sarcasm in his voice.

"Admit it. You miss me and all my shiny neediness," he teased more pleasantly.

"How are things at the hospital?" Wilson asked hesitantly.

"You mean the loony bin? They got me in my first attempt at escape, but it took four men to bring me down. I'm working out how to take down the big behemoth they have watching me," he said proudly.

"I meant the therapy," Wilson stated annoyed.

"Come on, Jimmy ole' boy. I only have five minutes to shoot the breeze. We need to devise a plan to get me . . ." House began to rant.

"House! Stop deflecting," he shouted into the phone.

"How's Cuddy?" House twisted the subject.

"Cuddy is . . . Cuddy," he answered.

"That good," House chirped.

"She asks about you," Wilson mentioned softly.

"Is the kitty's hair on end waiting for daddy to return and stroke her the right way till she's purring . . ." House smirked over the phone.

"House, I beg you not to finish that sentence. She wants to know how therapy is going," Wilson summarized her daily questions about his condition, "She keeps asking about what you were talking about that day."

"You haven't told her," House stated.

"I don't think it's my place. This stuff is between you two," Wilson eased his worries, "You could tell me about your therapy, so I have something to tell her."

"My doctor's hot," he replied.

"Great. Let me guess you spent the entire time staring at her breasts pretending to be distracted," Wilson sighed.

"It was more like a staring contest," House confessed.

"Have you even attempted to talk to her," Wilson asked.

"Not a word," House said with pride. He could see Wilson shaking his head in frustration.

A/N: I know this is wickedly short, but it brings us up to date. Promise the next one will be much more interesting. As always, please tell me what you think.


	10. House in a Hospital Pt 1

**House in a Hospital**

_**Past-2 years after Michigan**_

"You lucky son of bitch," John slapped him on the back, "I heard you got the Graham fellowship."

"Was there ever any doubt?" House responded smugly.

"Come on, House! This is Isaac Graham, the world's leading authority on infectious disease. Even you have to be a little excited," John nudged him in the rips.

"It isn't that amazing," he grumbled taking a sip of beer.

"Man, if I got it, I'd be on the bar proclaiming my own greatness," John raised his beer in salute to himself.

"Some of us don't need to speak our own praises," House smirked knowing his reputation was already well known.

"Ever so humble," John replied sarcastically, "When do you leave for California?"

There was a pause and brief silence before House answered. He simply said, "I'm not."

"What? What do you mean you're not?" John questioned incredulously.

"I turned it down. I'm staying at Hopkins," he answered staring down at the bar.

"Are you nuts?! What the hell at Hopkins would make you turn down the opportunity to study with the one doctor that you don't think is an idiot?" John yelled reeling from his decision.

"Drothiers in Nephrology offered me slot. I took it," House responded chugged the rest of his beer.

"The asshole?!" John gasped surprised even more, "You gave up Graham for Drothiers. You are crazy, man. Absolutely fucking nuts!"

"It's a part of my brilliance," he grinned with a mad glint in his eyes. Grabbing his jacket, House headed towards the door thanking John for the buying drinks.

_**Present**_

When she heard a soft rap on her door, Cuddy looked up to see who needed her attention. She couldn't stop her mouth from falling open in shock but quickly recovered snapping it shut. Waving House into her office, she motioned for him to take a seat. He settled into the seat clasping both hands on the top of his cane.

"Dr. House," she greeted him dryly.

"Cuddy," he responded staring her down.

"For the terms of your employment, the board and your team were informed that you were suspended for the last two months for that outburst in the reception area regarding me. You wrote a formal letter of apology explaining your deep regret for the incident, your mental distress over the loss of a fellow, and your actions to seek help for that distress. Here's the letter. Sign it," she placed the letter in front of him holding out a pen. He glanced down at the letter and pen for a moment. Staring her down with an icy look for a few minutes, he finally reached forward and signed the sheet without breaking his look. The sound of the pen resonated through her office when he dropped it on the desk.

"Dr. Wilson summarized your problems with the pain medication and treatment program at Mayfair. I will need to discuss the specifics of your treatment with the physicians" she continued sliding the letter into a disturbingly thick personnel file.

"They sent a letter. All the information you need is in there," he sneered pulling out an envelope from his coat pocket and throwing on her desk.

"After I speak to them, I need to consult with our lawyers to make sure your license is in order. Once we have everything cleared, your hospital privileges and practice will be restored," she opened the letter to verify the contents.

"But…" House rolled his eyes wishing she would just deliver the bad news already.

"You will be required to give blood samples every 14 days. This can be done by either Dr. Wilson or me. If any opiates found in your system, you will be immediately suspended," she gave him a hard look to emphasize her words, "From here on out, I will be your physician. All personal prescriptions have to have my approval to be filled. You will maintain a physical therapy and pain management program."

The last condition drew his attention. He raised an eyebrow as he assessed her. What was she doing? He knew her motives were not just to protect the hospital.

"What about my department?" he focused on the one topic that he cared about.

She took a deep breath and delivered the bomb, "Diagnostics is not longer your department."

"Great!" he scoffed, "Dad's away for a couple months, and the whole house falls apart."

The irony of his words was not lost on her. A familiar look of guilt clouded her features. She continued the salvo of news, "Foreman is the interim head of Diagnostics. Things need to be addressed before we can consider who should run the department."

"I think you mean before I return to running my department," he finally showed some anger.

"Like it or not, House. Foreman is good. He can do your job without the issues you cause," Cuddy responded truthfully.

"Why not fire me now, Boss?" he glared drawing out the last word.

"For the time being, you are categorized as a professor and consultant to the Diagnostics department," she finished the arrangements of his job.

"Cuddy, why won't you fire me?" he pushed softening his look.

"For the first time in ten years, you're not on pain meds. You don't have this chip on your shoulder interfering with your ability to practice medicine. That was the man I hired. He was my best doctor. I want to see him again," she spoke in a pleading voice.

"What if I'm not that guy anymore?" he asked.

"I may doubt many things about you, but I never doubt your ability to be a doctor," she answered sincerely.

House nodded. He signed forms where she pointed. When they finished, he got to his feet and went to the door. Opening the door, he turned back to Cuddy. She was busy shuffling forms and organizing his file. Suddenly, he asked on impulse, "How have you been?"

Looking surprised, she fumbled to respond, "Good. Rachel called me 'Mama' a few days ago."

His interest suddenly intently went to his cane. He responded, "That's it?"

"No," she smiled knowingly.

_**Past**_

"Hello," Cuddy answered the phone cheerfully as she organized the mass of books and notes before her.

"What are you wearing?" House greeted trying to sound seductive.

"You miss me," she answered proudly.

"Wrong. I'm horny. I miss watching you drag that gigantic ass down the hall," he replied annoyed.

"I miss you, too," she responded in a snide tone.

"You could actually stop acting like an anal retentive, compulsively obsessed perfectionist and come sex me up for a few days," he said playfully.

"12 more days," Cuddy reminded him of their prearranged reunion date.

"But mom!" he whined, "Little House wants to come out and play now!"

"I'm nothing like your mother," she grumbled hating his high pitched tone.

"I know," he smirked naughtily.

"Are you going to spend the entire time trying to get me to have phone sex when you know it will never happen?" Cuddy asked.

"Pretty much," he said honestly.

"Tell about the Graham fellowship. I know you heard about it this week," she demanded.

"Nothing to tell," he deflected.

"What do you mean? You got it, right?" she urged anxiously.

"No," he sighed frustrated.

"They're idiots. You're the best resident at JH. They don't deserve your genius if they can't see it," she ranted angrily.

"Let it go, Cuddy. There's nothing to worry about," he shrugged it off.

"What happens now? Where will you go next year?" she inquired in a small frightened voice.

"Hopkins. I'm doing a fellowship with Drothiers," he answered.

"Nephrology? Not what I expected, but it's nice to hear we'll still be close" she said cautiously.

"Yeah," he responded sounding resigned.

"My blue robe," she blurted out.

"What?" he asked confused.

"You asked me what I was wearing. I'm in my blue robe," she said shyly.

"You suck at this. You're supposed to say that you're naked," he criticized her.

"Maybe I don't have anything on underneath," she taunted in a deep, rich voice.

"Seriously?" House squeaked baffled and excited by her response.

"No. I'm wearing that burgundy lace thong you love," she replied huskily.

"Oh god," he breathed as he pictured this scene mentally. He asked suddenly suspicious "Wait! Is this pity phone sex?"

"Does it matter?" she teased.

"Not really," he responded after a minute of thought, "on one condition."

"What?" Cuddy asked sounding a little breathless.

"No faking it. You have to do what I say. That includes touching yourself, Cuddy," he commanded.

"I already am," she confessed followed by a soft moan.

"Oh gawd!" he gulped.

_**Present**_

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks bewildered by the sight in front of him. He checked his watch to confirm that it was seven in the morning. A moment later, he stood next to his friend. House was staring at the name on his office door. Gregory House, M.D. had been replaced by Eric Foreman, M.D. Wilson wrapped his arm around his shoulder and coaxed him around the corner to his office.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked a little afraid to know the answer.

"I will be as soon as I figure out how to take out the black Benedict Arnold," House answered looking lost in thought on the couch.

"Yeah…I had similar thoughts when I first saw it. Turns out that Foreman didn't even know about the change till he saw the door. It was Cuddy," Wilson rambled feeling relief to have someone to gossip with again. His relief was short-lived when he saw the anger on House's face. Wilson immediately began to rationalize, "Whatever you're thinking, stop. She already feels terrible. It was a 12 on the guilt scale."

"Really," he smiled wickedly, "I could use this to my advantage."

"You know I think she would actually welcome the chaos. Cuddy has been micromanaging since you left. It's driving the staff crazy," he admitted.

"Glad to know I was missed," he sneered.

"I thought you wanted Cuddy to miss you," Wilson smiled.

"I didn't think she'd give my job away," he confessed.

"Don't underestimate Cuddy. She's sacrificed a lot for you in the past," Wilson insisted.


	11. House in a Hospital Pt 2

A/N: Second Part to House in a Hospital. Present scenes are occuring over a month period (3-4 episodes). The past scene is happening all in the same day.

I edited it, so it should read through easier. Enjoy and please tell me what you thought.

**Differentials**

_**Past**_

Cuddy staggered into her apartment exhausted from the events of a long day. She dropped her bag by the door leaving the lights out. After she settled onto a seat in the kitchen, she pulled off a heel rubbing the sole of her foot. Hands suddenly rested on her shoulders. She screamed knocking the chair to the floor. The light in the kitchen went on a second later revealing her intruder.

"Hello to you, too," House grinned like the ass he was.

"You scared the hell out of me," she growled furiously, "What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here for three more days."

"I told you that I'm horny. I traded my weekend for three straight night shifts. You can thank me by wearing nothing for the next three days," he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Cuddy pushed his hands away heading for the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of wine and retrieved a wine glass from the cupboard. House watched her carefully as she filled the glass almost to the top and gulped down nearly a third of that amount once it reached her lips. He inquired, "Long day?"

"One of my patients is dying," she answered quietly.

"What wrong with the guy?" he asked in a gentle tone.

"It's a woman. Lupus," she followed her reply with another long drink.

"What are her symptoms?" House moved by her side in order to see her face.

"Kidney failure, high grade fever, low white and red blood cell counts," she listed clinically, "and liver failure is the most recent."

"Any joint pain?" he pondered the case.

"In the hands and feet," she nodded.

"Treatment?" he continued hoping the talk would reveal why she felt so guilty about this patient.

"Her primary physician, who diagnosed her, gave her steroids. When her kidneys started to fail, she was admitted to the hospital and given an immunosuppressant. She hasn't responded to any of the drugs. She's got maybe two days with the liver failure," Cuddy finally gave him the whole story.

"The treatment isn't working because she doesn't have lupus," House replied with a spark of intrigue in his eyes.

_**Present**_

House plowed into the Diagnostics conference room early on Monday morning. He wanted to have the upper hand when his team came in, but he wasn't the first person in the office that morning. Foreman was sitting at the computer desk in the conference room completing billing information.

House circled around the room looking at him from different angles. Then, he burst into the adjoining office next to the conference room surveying where everything was in the room. He rifled through drawers and skimmed through his porn collection. His office hadn't been touched since the day he left.

"Welcome back, House," Foreman greeted him as he leaned back in his chair placing his fingers in a familiar steeple formation.

"You didn't touch my office," House pushed past friendly greetings and immediately starting prying.

"It's your office," Foreman shrugged his shoulders like the answer was obvious.

"No, it's your office. Your name is on the door, and our dear Cuddy gave you Daddy's chair at the big table," he assessed trying to dig some confession from him.

Foreman sighed knowing the quiet days were officially at an end. He decided to be direct, "House, we all know that you would be back. Cuddy didn't fire you after 5 million patient complaints, hundreds of lawsuits, and a possible drug conviction. Why would she fire you for going crazy?"

"Who said I went crazy?" he sneered at Foreman.

"You're off Vicodin. Something had to push you to the point where you could no longer take it without threatening your job. You wouldn't make a move without Wilson's approval before you disappeared. My guess is that you were suffering from the psychological side effects of the drug," Foreman concluded with his right eyebrow arched.

"Those kind of side effects could revoke my medical license, yet; you still didn't move into my office," House kept prodding.

"You just called it my office, twice. You expected to come back, Cuddy expected you to come back, and Wilson did. Why wouldn't I assume the same?" Foreman stood gathering the billing reports for delivery, "I figured this way was easier." Foreman headed to the door. He turned back and nodded to House. House nodded back and headed into his office.

_**Past**_

"You shouldn't be here," Cuddy looked around for potential tattlers.

"Do you want your patient to live?" House asked impatiently.

"Technically, she isn't my patient. I'm just an intern," Cuddy argued.

"Yeah, the intern who may have just saved her life," he coaxed delirious with curiosity.

"I still don't understand how you can be so sure it's not lupus," she hated that she was giving in to him so easily.

"There should have been some response to the treatment. If it was any autoimmune disorder, the patient should have had even a small change between the steroids, chemo, and immunosuppressant. Four different medications statistically failing, not very likely," he won his case.

"I'll go get her chart," Cuddy went into the patient's room.

_**Present**_

House was digging through the candy jar on the clinic desk trying to reach a red one on the bottom. Cuddy came up next to him completing a patient's chart.

"I thought I'd never seen you down here since you don't have clinic duty currently," Cuddy stated looking as he finally captured his prize sucker.

"Best suckers in the entire hospital," House eyed her mouth with a wicked grin.

"I won't know. I've never tried them," she answered keeping the intended innuendo clean, "Since you're here, I need to talk to you about your class."

"Class?" House mumbled around the sucker in his mouth.

"Yes, you will be instructing an Advanced Diagnostics class," she informed him.

"No more lectures," he practically yelled, "After the last one, I told you that I wasn't doing that again."

Cuddy raised her eyebrow and crossed her hands over her chest clearly not happy that he was challenging her authority in the public arena of the clinic. She sighed, "Okay. Dr. Alders will be thrilled to do it. He always wanted free reign over the cases."

"Cuddy . . ." House eyed her suspiciously.

"I designed the class to be like that little game you played when you hired your latest fellows. The lecturer can choose whatever cases they want-old, new, or even current-and present them to the class in a differential format. I even assigned an assistant to read and grade all the assignments," she explained.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly, "You knew this would appeal to me. You're basically letting me loose in my own madhouse of puzzles."

"I'll even defend you when you scream at the students and make them cry," she said sweetly, "If the class is a success, I might even consider letting you out of your past clinic duty obligation to conduct the class next semester." She winked knowing she had him and swayed her hips in triumph towards her office.

_**Past**_

"House, you've been pacing down this hall for an hour. Would you sit down and talk to me?" Cuddy said annoyed with his pacing and mumbling.

"I need to think. There is something wrong with that woman and sitting isn't going to help me find it," he snapped feeling a piece was missing from the puzzle.

"Then, talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need," she pleaded.

"I need an idea! I don't know what the hell is going on! I can name a hundred different things that could be wrong with that woman. I need to narrow it down," he poured out his frustration in a rant.

"How do you do that when you're working at Hopkins?" she asked seeking a solution.

"I pace down a hall until I figure it out," he told her in a mocking tone.

"Anything else?" she pushed.

"I don't know. We read the chart and work through the possibilities," he started to explain his thought process.

"We?" she focused on the details.

"Yeah. Whenever a case comes in, I go into the conference room and write out the symptoms on the announcement board. It attracts idiots, who list a thousand wrong conditions. Eventually, the answer just comes to me," he explained the routine that accidently came to be.

"So, you need someplace to write and some idiots," she summarized.

"It might work," he agreed with a smirk.

_**Present**_

House joined Wilson at his lunch table, where he was reading the paper. House grabbed half his sandwich and fries putting them on his empty plate. Both men waited quietly for the other to start. House was avoiding Wilson's gaze concentrating on his well-earned meal. Wilson narrowed his eyes in curiosity, "You have something that you don't want to tell me, but you think you should tell me."

House scoffed annoyed that his best friend knew him so well, "Can't a man eat in peace without the psychoanalysis?"

"Is this about Cuddy?" Wilson began probing.

"No," he sighed in resignation looking for eavesdroppers, "My therapist."

"The hot one you wouldn't talk to," Wilson guessed.

"Yeah, her breasts hypnotized me into revealing a few things," he lied but told the truth.

"How did she get you to open up?" Wilson leaned anxiously.

"The woman fights dirty," House relented telling the story, "After 35 minutes of not blinking, she tears out of her seat and pulls out a letter. It was a suicide letter, her sister's suicide letter. Apparently Daddy Dearest raped her older sister whenever he got drunk, which was basically every night. Her sister forced Megan into the closet to protect her from him. Some nights her sister took double the abuse when Daddy wanted both his girls. Finally, her parents divorce, and their mother got full custody. The sister committed suicide in college. She just didn't want to be in pain anymore. She was tired of being miserable."

"Wow," Wilson responded shocked, "Hits close to the belt."

"That's just part one," House continued, "I kissed her."

"Wow," Wilson's eyes grew wider.

"Then, I slept with her," he finished quietly.

"Wow," Wilson took a moment to process, "Did she stay your therapist?"

"No, she forced me to go back to the drill sergeant. We still talked though. She wants to go on a date," House dropped the bomb.

"What did you tell her?" Wilson asked itching for more shocking revelations.

"I'm don't date," House stated.

"Yeah, you skip to moving in together," Wilson rolled his eyes before looking serious, "House, what about Cuddy?"

"She's my boss. You know, shrill voice, giant ass, and gravity defying jugs," House avoided the subject.

"Three months ago, you told her that you should move in together. You had a delusion where she broke your drug habit and had sex. Twice. In your mind, you replaced your Vicodin with her. In a way, Cuddy became your cure," Wilson reminded him.

"Exactly. Is it smart to move in with someone that you use as a substitution for a drug addiction? Cuddy was always trying to fix me. My mind used as a means to an end. I'm off Vicodin. I don't need her anymore," House covered his fears with rationalizations.

"You seemed happy that day. Are you sure those weren't real feelings?" Wilson pried.

"Yes," House answered looking directly in his eyes.

_**Past**_

"House, this are the interns are I work with. This is Johnson, Erickson, Dubois, Nickelson, and Angeris," Cuddy pointed to the row of future doctors beside her.

"Don't care. From now on, you're pretty boy, hot Swedish babe, nerd boy, big scary black man, and little Asian man. The patient has fever, poor circulation, anemia, low WBC, kidney failure, and liver failure. What fits these symptoms? Go!" House jumped right to the business at hand.

"What do you mean?" asked little Asian man.

"It's lupus. Dr. Kohlers already diagnosed her," said the pretty boy, pretty _idiot _boy.

"No, it's not. That's why we're here. To prove to Dr. Killjoy that 'lupus is always the answer' is wrong. Now, give me some ideas," House gritted through his teeth already deeply annoyed by the circle of morons around him.

"Maybe it's another type of autoimmune. Hashimoto's or Scleroderma?" suggest hot Swedish babe.

"No. God, Cuddy. This is the best group of morons you could come up with," House scowled.

"It can't be. The patient should have responded to the treatments if it was autoimmune," Cuddy ignored his jab and explained his line of reasoning.

"There's something missing. We need to know more about the patient. Does anyone know something important that isn't in chart?" House tried to get them to think outside the box.

"Like what?" asked scary black man as he leaned forward intrigued.

"Did she travel outside the country? Where does she work? Was there anything physical that didn't seem right about the patient?" House asked a series of questions to ignite some thoughts.

"Her teeth," nerd boy said suddenly.

"What?" House focused on him with an intense gaze.

"Her teeth. The patient's molars are eroded. Maybe she has some kind of calcium deficiency," nerd boy explained what he found on examination of her mouth.

"Anything else?" House said happy that they finally seemed to make some progress.

"The patient is tired," hot Swedish babe chimed in.

"Duh! The woman has two organs failing, and harsh drugs flushing through her system," House rolled his eyes thinking blonde bimbo would have been a more appropriate name.

"I mean when she first came in. She had black circles under her eyes and yawned every few minutes," she elaborated on the facts.

"Next time say that. Don't waste our time. Our patient is dying. Add fatigue and bad teeth," House admonished growing impatient.

"Oh my god! It's bulimia," Cuddy cried from the side.

"What?" House replied shocked that someone else had an epiphany before him.

"The patient was in the bathroom when we came into her room. She had just thrown up saying the medication was making her sick, but the nurses told Dr. Kohlers that she chomped down her lunch like she hadn't eaten in a week. The same thing happened two days straight. Bulimia explains her teeth, fatigue, poor blood counts, and circulation problems. She was suffering from malnutrition," Cuddy explained her realization.

"If her body doesn't have the nutrients, her immune system weakens to the point where she can't fight an infection. The idiot doctor tells her that it's lupus and puts her on steroids, which makes her immune system even worse. She gets a UTI and lands in the hospital. Thinking that it's lupus, they put her on stronger autoimmune drugs that make her even weaker until the infection starts invading major organs," House made the diagnosis.

We need to get her on antibiotics now," scary black man agreed with their discovery.

"Let's just hope we figured it fast enough," Cuddy added gravely.

_**Present**_

"House, I have good news. The psychologists sent their reports. I have a lawyer working on the license issues now. With any luck, you'll be back in the clinic by next month," Cuddy smiled as she caught him on his way out.

"Oh joy!" he responded clearly disgusted.

"You're welcome," she replied cheerfully taking in his strangely neat appearance, "You look nice. Do you have plans tonight?"

"I have a date," House answered taking in every aspect of her body and movements.

"Stripper or hooker?" Cuddy mocked.

"She a doctor actually," he replied sincerely.

"Oh," she said as her smile shifted to a frown, "Have fun."

"Night, Boss" House turned with a smirk.

_**Past**_

"You have to the patient give board spectrum antibiotics NOW, or she will die! Unless you plan on becoming a murderer, treat her!" House yelled motioning at the comatose patient in the room that Dr. Kohlers blocked.

"Dr. House, you have no proof and no privileges here. You will not touch that patient," Dr. Kohlers yelled back.

"The hell I won't," House threatened.

"House, wait," Cuddy intervened, "Dr. Kohlers, listen to him. If you hear the diagnosis explanation, I think you will agree with him. We can even show you."

"Ms. Cuddy, if you have any intention of becoming a doctor, I suggest that you get this jerk out of here and learn your place," Dr. Kohlers warned.

"You're right. It's not my place to decide how to treat this girl. It's theirs," Cuddy left the two men standing in the hall as she entered the patient's room to speak with her parents.

_**Present**_

"How was your date last night?" Wilson asked House as they watched the foot traffic in the clinic from the safety of the balcony.

"Fine," he replied ambiguously.

"How many times is that now? Four?" Wilson tried to make conversation.

"Yes," House confirmed. Suddenly, a deep, rich laugh from the first floor drew both men's attention. Cuddy walked out of her office ready to leave with her briefcase in hand. Her other hand was hooked in the crook of man's elbow as she laughed again at something he said.

"House?" Wilson noticed his friend was no longer at his side.

"Gotta go," House yelled before the elevator doors closed.

_**Past**_

"She let a doctor, who hasn't even completed his residency, have access to a patient's chart, gathered the interns for a differential with this nut job, and told me, her superior, how to treat a patient. When I disagreed with her, Ms. Cuddy had the gull to tell the family that I was wrong and should insist on new treatment," Dr. Kohlers ranted pacing around the Dean of Medicine's office.

"How is that patient, Dr. Kohlers?" Dr. Hamilton asked.

"Her fever is broken, but she is still unconscious," Kohlers replied sheepishly.

"I assume Dr. House was correct in the diagnosis," Hamilton concluded.

"Yes, but that does not excuse . . ." Kohlers prepared to launch into another long winded rant.

"Dr. House has left the hospital and promised not to return. I will handle Ms. Cuddy. You may leave now, Dr. Kohlers," Hamilton commanded kindly.

"Those were very presumptuous actions, Ms. Cuddy," he turned to her.

"Yes, Sir," she replied humbly.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" he asked withholding his emotions on the subject.

"There is nothing I can say to defend my behavior or Dr. House's except for I trust him. I have seen him solve cases that leave everyone around him baffled. I did everything I could to save the patient. I would do it again if I thought it could save her life," she answered honestly.

"You approached the parents while Dr. House and Dr. Kohlers were arguing over the treatment," he wanted to confirm her course of action.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Interesting move," he scrutinized the petite woman before him.

"Dr. Kohlers refused to listen to us. I knew the parents would know more about the patient than he would. When they confirmed the suspicions of bulimia, I told them about House's diagnosis. They agreed to try since Dr. Kohlers said there was nothing that could be done," Cuddy defended her decision.

"Ms. Cuddy, have you ever thought about hospital administration?" Hamilton asked with a smile.


	12. House in a Hospital Pt 3

A/N: This is the last part of House in a Hospital. The present scene follows directly after the last one in Part 2. The past scene is the end of a very long day for House and Cuddy.

Thanks to everyone that has been reading and leaving comments. I'm really glad that everyone is enjoying it. The next chapter will have the scene you've all been asking and hoping for. House and Cuddy finally have a showdown about Huddy in the present story line.

**Resolution**

_**Present**_

House stood outside the restaurant watching as the conversation flowed with ease between Cuddy and her date. She always had a smile on her face and threw her head back to laugh every so often. It was intoxicating just to watch her.

House envied the idiot that sat across from her. He never got to see her be so free anymore. The enraptured concern and guilt were far too common between them these days. He longed for the day where she laughed freely and retorted with comments just as depraved and wicked as his own. His primary instinct was to rush in there and drive the man away from her, but he stood outside the restaurant entranced by the smile of his Cuddy.

_**Past**_

"How's your patient?" House asked from her couch as he flipped rapidly through the channels.

"Alive and getting better. You were right," she plopped down next to him.

"It never is lupus," he smirked savoring the words 'you were right'.

"House, you've diagnosed people with lupus. It could have been lupus," she replied annoyed with his obvious self-satisfaction.

"No, it couldn't have been. Lupus is just a lousy excuse that clueless idiots with a medical license use when they're too lazy to actually do their jobs," he defended his skills.

"It doesn't matter anymore. The patient is better. That's all that matters," she relented happy that everything had turned out okay in the end.

"What happened with the dean?" he probed curiously.

"Nothing. He was actually impressed by the entire affair. He warned me not to cross Dr. Kohlers for the rest of my internship," she responded honestly relieved.

"What else did he say?" he asked knowing something else was on her mind.

"He asked me if I even thought about becoming an administrator. Funny, huh?" she said wondering what he thought of the idea.

"Ignore him. Administrators are nothing but wannabe doctors and donor whores," he insulted hating the whole idea.

"Ewwhh! I just got a mental image of Dr. Hamilton going down on old Mrs. Louwerski in his office," she laughed punching him lightly in the bicep.

"Geriatric sex. Dirty. I think that we can improve on that mental image," he wrapped his arms around her.

"Don't tell me. Show me," she replied through heavy-lidded eyes.

As House was working down her neck, the phone interrupted their activities. Before he could tell her to ignore it, he heard Cuddy saying hello to the moron on the other end. She suddenly pushed the phone into his hand, "House, it's John. He said that he had some important news about the Graham fellowship."

"I'll talk to the ass in the other room," he handed the phone back as he got off the couch, "I'll make sure he understands that I'll kill him if he calls again this weekend."

In the safety of the bedroom, House picked up the phone, "You're cock-blocking again."

"House, I'm not drunk, and this isn't about some patient. Isaac Graham called here for you. Isaac Graham! One of his fellows had to bail. He personally called to offer you the slot," John rambled excitedly.

House sighed, "I already promised Dothiers that I'd take the fellowship."

John rebuked, "Fuck Dothiers! You never would have a problem screwing that ass over. Take the damn fellowship."

House replied with blood freezing authority, "No."

"Why would you do something this stupid? You can't be so pussy-whipped that you would pass over the chance of a lifetime," John yelled in astonishment.

House didn't answer. He hung up the phone and lied down on the bed. A million thoughts were whirling through his mind at once.

"House?" Cuddy poked her head into the bedroom.

"Cuddy," he answered in an octave below his usual range.

"What did John say about the Graham fellowship?" she asked settling onto the bed next to him.

"Some idiot resident at Hopkins got the fellowship. He wanted me to come back, so we could hogtie and kidnap the idiot. He was trying to decide if we should tar-n-feather or dress him up in female panties before dumping him. When he asked for my opinion, I hung up," House passed off the call as a drunken rant.

"You know if you ever got a fellowship like that you should take," she whispered snuggling deeper into his chest.

"I didn't, so it doesn't matter," he wrapped his arms around her.

"House, I . . . I . . ." Cuddy bit her bottom lip as she looked up into his eyes.

"You what . . . Cuddy?" House grew uncomfortable when he realized how nervous she was in that moment.

"I'm glad you came this weekend," she buried her head back into his chest.

"That's not what you're going to say," he protested trying to pull her back up.

"Yes, it is," she looked back at him confidently.

"You're lying," he rose up on his elbows.

"How do you know?" she challenged.

"You look away just before you lie," he smiled.

"And you stare people down when you lie," she smiled back.

"You don't . . . Damn, Cuddy!" he hissed.

Her smile grew wicked as she applied more pressure with her hand. When she lifted it away, there was an impressive tent in his jeans. She shifted her body until she rested on her knees. Then, she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans causing House to sigh in relief. Slipping her hand in his boxers, she asked, "What were you trying to say?"

"I don't remember or care," he responded as his hips started to move in rhythm with her hand. His eyes fluttered close. Blindly, his hand found her hip slipping under her shirt. It kept traveling north till he had a firm grip on her breast.

"I thought you were going to show me a better mental image of sex," she teased jerking her hand tighter around him.

"I'm sure to can find a better use for your mouth other than talking," he reached into his boxers wrapping his hand around hers. He gently tugged upward exposing himself.

"You better think of ways to use yours later for other things than talking," Cuddy leaned down running her tongue along the outline of his lips and quickly dipped it inside his mouth. She pulled back smiling briefly before she lowered her mouth to where he had in mind.


	13. Showdown

Thank you everyone that has read. Double thanks to those you review. I am so glad that you have enjoyed my story. This is the end. I hope you like it.

**Showdown**

_**Present**_

"He went home. You can come out now," Cuddy peeked out the lace curtains in her kitchen.

"Let me guess. Wally Wall Street couldn't reach your Cuddy bone, and now you need Big Daddy to come over to finish the job," House greeted her calmly.

"You shouldn't use Wilson's car if you don't want to get caught spying," she chided over the phone, "I saw you following us from the restaurant."

"You're starting to show your age. Why would I follow you and the blonde blunder when I access to Wilson's credit card and his black book of hookers?" he started to hustle away to a safe distance.

"I'm sure the tall limping pervert with a cane in his right hand rushing across my front lawn is just the friendly neighborhood peeping Tom. You've been spotted. Now turn around and get in here," she demanded.

"I love it when you get all …" he attempted to stall.

"Now, House!" she ended the call before he could come up with a viable excuse.

Turning around, he slowly lumbered to her house. She stood waiting for him behind the screen door of her entry way. Opening the door, she motioned for him to follow her inside to the living room.

"Why are you here, House?" she queried in a commanding tone.

"Foreman needed permission for a procedure. I volunteered to…" he explained.

"We both know you would never disgrace yourself by doing Foreman a favor," she cut him off, "We can't keep doing this. You moved on, so I moved on. Yet, you're here. Why won't you let go?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Bullshit!" she spat, "You have an answer for everything, but you never have a clear answer when it comes to me. I just want an answer. A real answer."

The silence stretched on as they waited for the other to move or speak. House stared at the floor occasionally glancing up to observe her. She sighed and moved to stand in front of him. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she tried again, "How long do you expect me to play this game? Sometimes it feels like we have been doing this dance since college. We tried earlier this year, but you found a way to ruin it before the week was out. You hate my child. You find every opportunity to insult me and challenge my authority. One moment I'm sure you want me, and the next I don't think if you can stand me. Why are you here? Why do you ruin my dates, covet at my body, and suggest moving in together? Tell me, please." She gently cupped his cheeks.

House glanced at the floor steeling his emotions. Meeting her gaze, he simply said, "You know why." Before she could pry for deeper meaning, he pressed his lips to hers.

_**Past**_

"House, stop…oh god…please stop!" Cuddy moaned trying to writhe away from his grasp. He tightened his grip on her thighs keeping them spread wide apart. His head remained buried in the space there as he redoubled his efforts. Digging her nails into his skull, she yanked at his hair until he came up for a breath. They glared at each other panting.

"You're messing up my experiment," House grunted upset for the interruption. He gingerly rubbed his head.

"I told you to stop. It can get overwhelming down there when it's over stimulated. What deranged experiment are you talking about?" she gave a suspicious look.

"You were all panty and squirmy. Normally, you yell at me not to stop when you're ready to blow," he smirked resting back comfortably in her desk chair.

Sitting up on her desk, she demanded to know his intentions, "What experiment?"

Smiling devilishly, he explained, "I read in a journal that a woman's orgasm can be maintained if the clitoris is stimulated lightly in a circular motion. I wanted to test the technique. The article claimed some female orgasms can last as long as an hour."

"You want me to be your sex guinea pig!" she replied incredulously.

"Not exactly how I'd put it but yeah," he answered with a shrug.

"You are unbelievable," she groaned. She lay back on the desk rubbing her temples. She yelped when his tongue flicked the juncture between her legs.

"This time keep your hands to yourself, or we'll have to start all over again," he pushed her thighs wide open and continued on with the experiment.

_**Present**_

"House . . ." Megan murmured, "Slow down." Her words were cut off by his mouth. He pushed her into the door pulling her pelvis against his.

"Go to the bedroom," House commanded.

"House," she was interrupted again by his mouth. Surrendering to his actions, she put her hand on the back of his head giving into his forceful kiss. Her other hand trailed down his stomach reaching down to cup him through his jeans.

House jumped back a few inches panting, "I can't do this."

"You're the one that insisted on a 4am booty call," Megan rested her hands on his chest rubbing softly.

"I have to go," he brushed her hands off and reached down to retrieve his cane.

"House, what's wrong?" she blocked his path to the door.

"This was a mistake. I have to go," he persisted.

"Not until you tell me what happened. I thought you wanted this," she responded forcefully.

"So did I," he answered walking away from her.

"What changed?" she followed him to the kitchen.

"You're not my therapist," he shot back in the dark.

"No! Apparently I'm your free all night hooker service!" she snapped.

House couldn't help but smirk. He compromised, "If you want me talk, find me some scotch."

"You're a recovering addict. You're not supposed to use any controlled substances," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Get me the damn scotch," he pressed.

"No," she pushed pass him and went into the kitchen switching on the light. She yanked a tumbler out of the cabinet and filled it full of bourbon. Taking a healthy gulp, she sneered at him as she swallowed. His arm shot out to grab the bottle, but Megan was faster pulling out of his reach.

He smiled, "I knew I liked you."

"But not enough to be your girlfriend," she played with the liquid in her glass.

"No," he answered.

"Are you going to tell me why?" she stared him down.

"I chose long before I met you," he replied quietly.

"Cuddy," she figured, "Have you told her yet?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"House, you either have or you haven't," she gritted.

"She threw me out," he looked away at the door.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I kissed her, and she got mad," he smiled at the memory.

"Suave as ever, I see. Did you tell her how you feel?" she continued to pry.

"No," he sighed staring at the bourbon.

"You do love her, don't you?" she pushed.

"Yes," he admitted.

"It works a lot better when you say it her," she teased.

"The last woman that I said that to had a chunk chopped out of my thigh after she promised me that she would follow my wishes. She waited till I was put in an induced coma to give the doctor's permission to hack away," he grunted.

"That explains a lot," she took another large gulp.

_**Past**_

"Is there a language that you don't speak?" Cuddy asked impressed by his fluency in Japanese.

"I don't speak Hindi," he responded.

"My god! You're not perfect," she replied with a bark of laughter. House reached for his glass raising it for a toast.

"To Dr. Cuddy," House toasted Cuddy with a glass of champagne.

"Thank you," she clinked her glass against his.

"Don't thank me yet. Wait till I get you alone," he gave her a pointed look as he took a sip from his flute.

"You're going to have to be patient. We already ordered dinner," she reminded him.

"Oh gawd! I love it when you take charge," he jested. His eyes lit up with a playful spark.

"House," Cuddy said solemnly, "Before we get to the celebration, I need to tell you something."

"You're not wearing underwear," he suggested hopefully.

"You'll have to wait and find out," she gave him a sultry look, "I accepted a fellowship at UCLA medical center with Garfield."

"No, you didn't," he objected, "You're going to Boston to study under Farhish. He's the best endocrinologist in the states. You don't refuse the call up from the minors when it comes."

"But you move down to the minors if it opens up a space on the team for the team ace," she responded looking down at her hands.

"Cuddy, what are you talking about?" he pried.

"I took the job in California because that's where you'll be. I applied you for the Graham fellowship. Of course, he wants you. In fact, this time he said that he wouldn't take no for an answer. You sacrificed this fellowship twice for me. I can make a sacrifice for you this time," she smiled softly. Internally, she was beaming at the admission. Finally, she might just tell him.

"Why?" he asked suddenly very serious.

"What do you mean? I'm going to UCLA, so we'll still be close," she answered.

"Why do you think that we need to be close to each other? We're not in a relationship. At most, we are friends, fuck buddies. Are you really willing to give up the best fellowship opportunity for a good fuck?" he responded cruelly.

"House, how . . . I mean it's been four years. A good fuck, is that all I am to you?" she asked in a reserved tone.

"Yes," he said point blank not taking his eyes off hers.

"You bastard!" she hissed, "For four years, you made me think that I was a part of you. You have feelings for me, I know it. Don't lie to me. Are you in love with me?"

"No," he said just as coldly as his last answer.

"Then, I pity you," she whispered back dropping her glaze. She picked up her bag and left him alone at the table. His eyes never her body until she was gone.

_**Present**_

Wilson shot up in bed when his bedroom door slammed into the wall. House limped into the room balancing a tray on his left hand. He settled the tray onto the edge of Wilson's bed.

"You took some Vicodin. This is some kind of bribe to keep me from kicking you out," he motioned to the breakfast. The pathetic breakfast consisted of burnt bagels without cream cheese and watered down coffee. It was pathetic by normal standards but unprecedented by House standards.

"No Vicodin," House sat down on the bed pushing the tray towards Wilson. He picked up a cup of coffee sniffing it suspiciously. Finally, he took a sip choking down the poorly made drink. When he looked up at House, his friend was staring him down with a determined steel blue glaze.

"House, I know that we've been friends for a long time. We have all heard the rumors at the hospital. That doesn't mean that we should consider them as anything other than rumors," Wilson stated calmly but nervously.

"What rumors?" House tilted his head slightly. He was clearly very curious.

"You know_. Those rumors_," Wilson emphasized with air quotes. House just looked at him like he had no idea what he was talking about. He tried to explain, "House, some people at the hospital think that there is more to our friendship than just friendship. They think that we're special friends."

"Are you hitting on me?" House interrupted his rambling explanation.

"House! Get out!" Wilson shouted too tired to deal with him this early.

"But I haven't told you what I need," he whined grabbling one half of the charcoal-colored bagel.

"What do you want?" Wilson submitted to his childish act.

"I need your help with Cuddy," House replied.

"I'm not helping you torture her," Wilson took another sip of coffee instantly regretting it.

"I want Cuddy," he turned away as he stated his confession.

"Do you mean . . ." Wilson started to ask somewhat shocked.

"I want to be with Cuddy," he turned his gaze back to meet Wilson's.

THE END-THE NEXT IN THIS SERIES IS GOING TO BE CALLED I WANNA A CUDDY.

A/N: As you just read above, this is going to be a series. I can't keep up the past sections long enough to get them together, so they break up here. The next story will strictly be set in the present or near future.

I hope that you guys liked the ending. I know it is a little anti-climatic. Just to make sure everyone is following. I couldn't resist putting the desk in some perverted sex scenario, but it definitely deserves a memory. House turned Cuddy away after she graduated so that she would pursue the best fellowship possible. Yes, House followed Cuddy after her date. He reacted instead of talking to her, so she kicked him out. He went to Megan in anger but couldn't betray her. Now he's recruiting Wilson to help him get Cuddy. I hope you stayed tune to the next installment.


End file.
